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CANADIAN    NIGHTS 


CANADIAN   NIGHTS 

BEING  SKETCHES  AND  REMINISCENCES  OF 

LIFE  AND  SPORT  IN  THE  ROCKIES 

THE  PRAIRIES,  AND  THE 

CANADIAN  WOODS 


OF   pUNRAVEN.U^'T   lU  M^^^^U 


THE   EARL 

t  •  > 


LONDON 
SMITH,  ELDER  &  CO.,  15  WATERLOO  PLACE 

1914 

[AH  rights  reserved] 


Printed  by  Ballantyne,  Hansom  6r*  Co. 
at  the  BalUntyne  Press,  Edinburgh 


CONTENTS 

PAGE 

WILLIE  WHISPER i 

A  COLORADO  SKETCH 20 

WAPITI-RUNNING  ON  THE  PLAINS         ...  51 

MOOSE-HUNTING  IN  CANADA 100 

SHEEP-HUNTING  IN  THE  MOUNTAINS          .        .  151 

NEWFOUNDLAND  IN  THE  'SEVENTIES         .        .  194 

DAYS  IN  THE  WOODS 247 


Ml7a094 


CANADIAN     NIGHTS 


WILLIE   WHISPER 

YEARS  ago,  it  matters  not  when,  it  was  my 
not  unpleasant  fate  to  spend  an  idle  week 
in  the  woods,  and  the  memory  of  it  is  still 
fresh  in  my  mind. 

It  was  late  in  the  autumn.  The  glorious 
foliage  of  the  hardwood  trees  lay  like  a  many- 
tinted  carpet  on  the  earth,  soon  to  be  wrapped 
in  its  winter  covering  of  virgin  snow.  The  air 
was  very  still.  Not  a  breath  stirred  the  withered 
leaves  of  the  alders  fringing  the  river  bank  when  I 
and  a  half-breed  pushed  off  in  a  "  dug-out "  to 
force  our  way  up  stream  towards  the  winter  camp 
which  my  other  two  Indians  were  constructing  in 
the  heart  of  the  big  woods.  It  was  bitterly  cold 
under  the  morning  star.  Ice  was  forming  rapidly 
on  the  reeds  and  sedges  margining  the  stream. 
The  water  dripping  from  our  poles  froze,  making 
the   footing   in    that    most    rickety   of   vessels,    a 


;i :  ;  7  r    :    CANADIAN   NIGHTS 

"  dug-out,"  more  than  usually  insecure.  It  was 
that  uncomfortable  interlude  between  summer  and 
winter  when  the  weather  is  not  cold  and  dry  enough 
to  admit  of  soft  caribou  skin  moccasins  over  heaps 
of  woollen  socks,  and  is  much  too  wet  and  cold  to 
make  raw-hide  knee  boots  comfortable  wear. 

But  poling  up  a  rushing  river  is  vigorous  exer- 
cise. Presently  the  great  sun  rose  in  a  flood  of 
light,  shedding  genial  warmth ;  and  as  the  day 
wore  on  towards  noon  we  were  hot  enough  and 
tired  enough  to  enjoy  a  pannikin  of  strong  tea,  a 
piece  of  hard  bread,  a  quiet  smoke  and  a  rest. 
But  the  rest  was  short.  It  was  freezing  so  hard 
that  it  became  evident  that  unless  we  pushed  on 
our  chance  of  reaching  the  old  lumber  camp  at 
the  head  of  the  stream  before  the  ice  made  on  the 
still  reaches  was  small  indeed.  So  push  on  we 
did,  forcing  the  canoe  up  with  our  poles  where 
the  open  current  ran  strong,  and  breaking  our  way 
with  our  paddles  through  the  rapidly  forming  ice 
on  still  reaches,  till  a  little  before  sundown  we  ran 
the  dug-out  ashore  at  the  old  camp  situated  just 
above  where  the  stream  drained  the  still  waters  of 
a  chain  of  small  ponds  or  lakes. 

The  prospect  was  not  encouraging.  Further 
progress    by    water    was    obviously    impossible    as 


WILLIE   WHISPER  3 

long  as  the  cold  snap  lasted,  and  it  really  looked  as 
if  it  had  come  to  stay ;  but,  with  the  philosophy 
bred  by  contact  with  nature,  we  cut  a  supply  of 
maple  logs  and  young  branches  of  the  "  sapin," 
lit  a  big  fire  on  the  deserted  hearth,  made  our 
fragrant  beds,  ate  our  supper,  smoked  our  pipes, 
and  curled  up  to  sleep. 

It  was  in  the  small  hours  of  the  morning,  a 
little  before  dawn,  that  I  was  jerked  out  of  sleep 
by  someone  pulling  aside  the  blanket  we  had  hung 
across  the  doorway  and  walking  unceremoniously 
up  to  the  dying  fire.  Having  raked  the  embers 
together  and  blown  fresh  logs  into  a  cheerful  blaze 
the  newcomer  pulled  off  his  sodden  cow-hide 
boots,  stuck  his  dripping  socks  on  two  sticks  to 
dry,  and  turning  to  me  with  a  courteous  old- 
fashioned  inclination  of  the  head,  said,  "  Good 
morning,  sir.  It  is  a  monstrous  fine  morning, 
but  all  nature  is  ashake  with  cold  and  so,  by  gad, 
am  I !  "  By  this  time  the  "  voyageur  "  was  also 
awake,  and  greeting  the  newcomer  with  "  Bo  jure, 
bojure,  Willie,"  turned  to  me  and  said  under  his 
breath,  "  He  Willie  Whisper.  He  crazy  as  a  loon 
but  no  harm,  just  like  one  child."  So  we  made 
Willie  welcome,  brewed  some  tea,  handed  him  a 
stick  of  tobacco,  and  sat  awhile  to  smoke. 


4  CANADIAN   NIGHTS 

I  had  often  heard  of  Willie  Whisper,  a  queer 
old  fellow  by  all  accounts,  an  educated  man,  so 
'twas  said,  who  had  seen  the  world  and  knew  men 
and  cities,  but  who  for  some  unaccountable  reason 
lived   solitary   in   the   woods,   coming   rarely   and 
with  reluctance  into  settlements  and  the  haunts  of 
man.     Quite  mad,  most  white  men  thought,  be- 
cause they  could  not  understand  a  sane  man  lead- 
ing such  a  life  ;  although  some  said  he  was  sane 
enough   in    most    respects   but    had   communings 
with  ghosts,  and  talked  and  whispered  with  the 
trees   and  wild   creatures   and  birds.     All  agreed 
that  he  was  a  kindly,  harmless  man,  and  the  Indians 
held  him  in  reverence  and  deep  respect.     Sitting 
there  in  the  full  light  of  a  bright  fire  of  sweet- 
smelling  maple  and  birch  I  saw  a  man  past  middle 
age,  stooping  more  perhaps  by  the  weight  of  packs 
than  of  years,  silvering  hair  falling  about  a  fine- 
cut  intellectual  face  ;   in  short,  a  somewhat  dilapi- 
dated  Englishman   in    coarse    homespun   clothes, 
ragged  and  unkempt,  but  with  that  air  about  him 
which  in  some  men  nothing  can  efface.     Beyond 
that  hall-mark  of  gentle  breeding  there  was  nothing 
remarkable  about  this  remarkable  man  except  his 
eyes  and  an  expression  upon  his  face  difficult  to 
describe — a  look  of  sadness  but  of  infinite  patience 


WILLIE   WHISPER  5 

and  ineffable  peace.  His  glance  was  not  piercing 
or  alert.  It  was  abstracted  rather.  His  eyes 
certainly  had  not  what  novelists  describe  as  "  a 
far  away  look  "  ;  but  they  looked  as  if  they  saw  a 
great  deal  more  than  there  was  to  see,  as  if  they 
saw  right  through  everything  to  something  be- 
yond, as  though,  while  conscious  of  all  his  sur- 
roundings, he  was  perceptive  also  of  something 
else  in  relation  to  them.  His  face  bore  an  ex- 
pression as  though  to  say,  "  If  you  knew  what  I 
know  you  would  be  sure,  as  I  am,  that  nothing 
matters  and  all  is  well." 

Willie  Whisper  was,  as  he  told  us,  on  his  way 
down  but  had  got  stuck  up  in  the  ice  a  few  miles 
back.  Winter  had  not  set  in,  for  the  lakes  were 
not  full,  but  the  cold  snap  would  last  some  days, 
and  he  had  made  his  way  on  foot  to  the  old  lumber 
camp  to  wait  for  a  thaw. 

"  You  will  have  more  visitors,"  he  added  ;  "  I 
heard  them  breaking  the  ice  on  the  old  beaver 
dam   beyond   long   portage  yesterday   as   the   sun 


set." 


"  Why !  "  I  cried,  "  that  is  thirty  miles  away." 
"  Quite  so,  but  all  the  same  I  heard  them,  and 
I  know  something  about  them.     Two  birch-bark 
canoes  and,  I  think,  six  men.     I  cannot  be  certain 


6  CANADIAN   NIGHTS 

of  course,  but  I  expect  they  will  carry  round  the 
dead  water  and  run  down  the  open  stream  to 
the  head  of  these  ponds  where  the  ice  will  stop 
them  again.  Some  are  newcomers  from  home, 
perhaps  going  hunting  like  yourself,  but  the  others 
know  the  country,  and  I  think  you  will  find  them 
walking  in  here  in  a  couple  of  days." 

"  Well,  Willie,"  I  said,  "  the  more  the  merrier. 
If  the  frost  holds  they  will  be  welcome." 

"  To  you  very  likely,"  grumbled  Willie,  "  for  the 
gentlemen  hunters  are  of  your  kind,  but  I  am  not 
so  sure  that  I  shall  like  the  others.  They  have 
been  ranging  the  deep  woods  looking  foi  lumber 
and  menacing  my  friends  the  trees,  and  have  been 
searching  for  that  solidified  curse,  gold." 

With  that  he  knocked  the  ashes  out  of  his  pipe 
and,  wrapping  himself  in  his  blanket,  lay  down  by 
the  fire.  I  followed  his  example,  and  slept  until 
the  sun  was  a  good  half -hour  high. 

After  breakfast — the  inevitable  hard  tack  and 
tea — Willie  and  I  caught  a  mess  of  trout  through 
a  hole  in  the  ice  to  eke  out  the  very  slender  ration 
of  fat  pork  that  we  possessed.  The  day  had  broken 
hard  and  clear.  It  was  freezing  in  the  shade, 
but  a  glorious  sun  struck  hot  through  an  atmos- 
phere absolutely  still,  and  after  our  midday  meal 


WILLIE   WHISPER  7 

we  sat  with  our  backs  against  a  great  tree  and 
smoked  and  talked.  A  most  interesting  talk  it 
was,  for  the  strange  and  fascinating  companion 
that  kindly  fate  had  sent  my  way  told  me  much 
about  himself.  That  he  was  a  cultivated  gentle- 
man was  plain  to  eye  and  ear.  Many  such  are 
to  be  met  in  queer  corners  of  the  world,  and 
generally  the  stamp  of  failure,  sometimes  also  of 
disgrace,  is  plainly  to  be  seen.  But  this  man  was 
different,  and  I  had  wondered  by  what  freak  of 
nature  or  chance  of  fortune  one  so  evidently  a 
product  of  civihsation  had  become  a  child  of  the 
woods  and  wilds.  He  told  me  about  it  in  some- 
thing like  the  following  words. 

"  You  are  quite  right,"  he  said,  "  I  have  not 
drifted  into  this  phase  of  existence  through  failure 
or  disgrace.  I  have  not  forged  anybody's  name, 
or  cheated  at  cards,  or  as  a  wastrel  made  myself 
a  hopeless  misery  to  my  friends.  Nor  is  there 
any  woman  in  my  story.  I  adopted  this  kind  of 
life  of  my  own  free  will,  though  not  without  many 
struggles  against  it,  because  it  seemed  to  me  the 
only  thing  I  could  do.  I  am  an  Irishman,  which 
perhaps  accounts  for  something,  and  a  younger  son 
of  a  politically  powerful  family,  which  certainly 
accounts  for  much  more.     I  was  at  Harrow  and 


8  CANADIAN   NIGHTS 

Oxford,  and  I  was  destined  for  the  Bar — more,  I 
fancy,  as  introductory  to  some  other  career  than 
as  likely  to  lead  to  the  Woolsack.  By  good  or  evil 
chance,  I  don't  know  which,  a  leading  member  of 
the  party  then  in  opposition  met  me  in  a  country- 
house  and  took  a  fancy  to  me,  and  offered  me  a 
billet  as  a  sort  of  unpaid  assistant  secretary.  I 
was  the  fortunate  or  unfortunate  possessor  of  an 
income  sufficient  to  keep  me.  I  was  young, 
fairly  clever,  full  of  debating-society  political 
enthusiasm,  and  I  gladly  accepted  the  offer  as 
likely  to  open  a  path  satisfactory  to  legitimate 
ambition.  And  it  did.  For  the  first  few  years, 
for  so  long,  in  fact,  as  I  occupied  a  subordinate 
position,  the  footsteps  of  time  trod  pleasantly. 

"  The  work  was  easy,  if  uninteresting,  con- 
sisting mainly  of  looking  up  a  few  facts  and 
statistics,  of  writing  polite  letters  of  disapproval, 
or  non-committal  letters  of  approval,  of  soothing 
the  wounded  self-importance  of  an  occasional 
constituent,  and  of  applying  to  fractured  engage- 
ments some  plausible  excuse.  I  saw  the  best  of 
the  best  society.  I  was  looked  upon  as  *  a  rising 
young  man'  and  I  knew  it.  In  short  I  had  a 
very  good  time.  It  was  not  until  my  superior 
officer  obtained  a  nice  little  government  post  as 


WILLIE   WHISPER  9 

the  reward  of  long  and  meritorious  secretarial 
service  and  I  stepped  into  his  cast-off  secretarial 
shoes,  that  the  actualities  of  public  political  life 
began  to  dispel  the  illusions  with  which  I  had 
embellished  it.  I  was  in  the  inner  ring.  In  all 
things  political  I  became  the  confidant  of  my 
chief ;  and  oh,  the  bitter  awakening  of  it  all ! 

"It  seemed  to  me  that  all  were  for  the  party 
and  none  were  for  the  state.  Men  who  in  private 
life  were  truthful  and  the  soul  of  honour  laboured 
under  the  conviction  or  illusion  that  politics  was 
a  game  to  which  the  ordinary  rules  of  ethics  did 
not  apply.  All  means  were  deemed  legitimate  to 
serve  a  legitimate  end,  and  what  was  the  end  ? 
To  gull  the  people,  to  outmanoeuvre  an  opponent, 
to  get  the  inside  track  of  a  friend,  to  avert  party 
disaster,  to  inflict  party  defeat.  It  was  party 
alone  that  the  players  thought  of.  Place  and 
power  were  the  stakes  and  no  code  of  honour 
regulated  the  game.  Oh,  of  course  my  chief,  in 
common  no  doubt  with  others,  acted  on  the 
assumption  that  the  success  of  his  party  was 
essential  to  the  well-being  of  the  state.  But  did 
they  really  think  so  ?  I  would  fain  believe  it,  but 
who  can  say  ?  Has  not  the  same  belief  or  de- 
lusion possessed  every  great  conqueror  and  scourge 


10  CANADIAN    NIGHTS 

of  God  who  has  deluged  the  fair  earth  with  blood  ? 
What  were  considered  the  most  useful  qualities 
in  a  public  man  ?  Statesmanship,  sound  judg- 
ment, intuitive  insight  ?  Not  at  all.  Mob  oratory ; 
the  dramatic  instinct,  the  power  so  to  identify 
self  momentarily  with  an  assumed  part  as  to  move 
great  audiences.  Oh  well,  I  need  not  go  into  all 
that.  Public  political  life  seemed  to  me  at  any 
rate  to  be  compounded  of  personal  ambition, 
private  jealousy,  and  profound  contempt  for  all 
the  great  principles  for  which  the  players  in  a 
disreputable  game  professed  to  be  willing,  nay 
anxious,  to  sacrifice  their  lives.  I  am  not  laying 
down  the  law,  mind  you.  I  may  be  all  wrong,  I 
admit.  I  am  only  telling  you  how  the  insight 
affected  me.  I  found  myself,  according  to  my 
instincts,  playing  a  subordinate  part  in  a  sordid 
comedy  not  unlikely  to  turn  into  a  tragedy  for  the 
poor  stupid  ignorant  people  herded  like  bleating 
sheep  into  the  party  folds  of  the  principal  actors 
on  the  stage.  I  felt  degraded.  I  am  not  a  re- 
ligious man,  certainly  not  in  the  dogmatic  sense, 
but  I  even  then  believed  in  a  great  first  cause, 
in  the  persistence  of  some  core  of  me  derived 
from  that  Supreme  Being,  and  in  my  responsi- 
bility ;    and  I  began  to  wonder  whether  anything 


WILLIE   WHISPER  ii 

can  profit  a  man  if  he  lose  his  own  soul.  I  felt  as 
if  the  life  I  was  leading  left,  as  it  flowed  through 
me,  some  accretion  binding  and  choking  the  best 
in  me.  The  thought  sickened  me.  How  far  it 
was  all  a  question  of  nerves  I  didn't  know.  I 
consulted  an  old  friend  of  mine,  a  very  eminent 
medical  man,  and  something  of  a  psychologist 
also.  Of  course  he  said  nerves,  brain  fag,  over- 
work, and  recommended  a  complete  change ;  but 
he  added,  '  Congenial  work  is  never  too  hard.  It 
is  the  work  that  jars  that  irritates  the  nerves. 
Perhaps  your  work  cuts  against  the  grain.  If  it 
does,  give  it  up,  for  that  is  the  only  cure.' 

"  Well,  I  took  his  advice  partially  by  utilising  my 
first  long  vacation  in  a  trip — a  solitary  trip  into  the 
wilds.  That  was  my  undoing  from  a  utilitarian 
point  of  view.  I  cannot  tell  you — well,  I  suppose 
it  is  scarcely  necessary,  for  you  must  understand 
something  about  it  yourself — anyhow  I  cannot 
describe  the  cleansing,  healing  influence  of  the 
deep  woods  upon  perplexed  spirit  and  harassed 
nerves.  Great  flakes  of  all  the  conventionalities 
and  hypocrisies  of  the  world  seemed  to  be  shed  off 
me.  Something  seemed  to  whisper,  '  What  is 
your  civilisation  after  all  ?  Masses  of  men  strug- 
gling to  survive,  striving  amid  degrading  surround- 


12  CANADIAN    NIGHTS 

ings  to  force  or  crawl  their  way  out  of  the  general 
mass  and  welter  of  humanity.  What  is  the  life  of 
your  own  class  in  the  great  city  in  which  your  lot 
is  cast  ?  The  same  conflict,  only  under  politer 
forms.  The  same  struggle  to  get  the  better  of 
others.  The  weariness  and  the  vain  endeavour 
to  find  in  artificial  gaiety  a  little  forget  fulness  in 
each  fretful  day.  What  do  you  find  here  ?  A 
struggle  also — the  incomprehensible  immutable  law 
of  all  being  that  only  by  travail  can  life  ascend ; 
but  under  what  different  conditions  !  An  honest 
fight,  an  open  fight,  and  under  surroundings  clean 
and  sweet ;  and  with  it  great  contentment  and 
peace  of  mind.  Surely  this  is  the  natural  and 
proper  life  of  man.'  " 

Willie  Whisper  paused  to  refill  and  light  his 
pipe. 

"  And  so,"  I  broke  in,  "  you  made  the  great 
renunciation,  left  it  all  and  followed  the  call  of 
the  wild  ?  " 

"  No,  no,  not  by  any  means.  I  fought  that 
which  I  now  believe  to  be  my  better  self  hard. 
I  went  back  to  it  all,  to  the  intense  interest  and 
excitement  of  politics,  to  all  the  pleasures  that 
London  can  offer  to  a  young  and  fortune-favoured 
man.     But  you  are  right.     The  call  of  the  wild 


WILLIE   WHISPER  ij 

proved  too  strong  at  last.  I  wearied  of  the 
pleasures.  The  sham  patriotism  and  real  selfish- 
ness of  politicians  disgusted  me.  Everything  was 
so  mercenary,  even  art  and  literature  saturated 
with  it  and  degraded.  I  think  had  I  found  some 
outlet  in  great  commercial  undertakings,  engineer- 
ing exploits,  or  trading  adventure,  I  might  have 
stood  it  out ;  but  no,  my  lines  were  cast  in 
politics  ;  politics  sickened  me,  and  at  long  last  I 
cut  clean  adrift  and  sought  the  simple  life.  The 
simple  life  !  Yes,  fools  play  at  it  at  home.  Eat 
nuts  and  get  indigestion.  Walk  barefoot  and 
catch  colds.  No,  my  dear  sir,  that  is  of  no  kind 
of  use.  If  you  cannot  lead  the  life  into  which 
according  to  the  catechism  God  has  called  you — 
if  to  you  the  simple  Hfe  becomes  an  absolute 
necessity,  a  craving  that  cannot  be  denied,  you 
must  seek  it  where  only  it  can  be  found.  Don't 
play  with  nature.  Give  yourself  wholly  up  to 
nature  and  nature  will  give  herself  wholly  up  to 
you,  and  you  will  find  peace. 

"  But  don't  suppose  that  peace  and  contentment 
came  to  me  all  at  once.  I  suffered  from  qualms  of 
conscience — thought  that  perhaps  duty  to  others 
made  it  necessary  for  me  to  struggle  on  in  my 
natural  sphere,  however  disastrous  the  consequences 


14  CANADIAN   NIGHTS 

might  be  to  myself.  I  had  lapses  towards  civilisa- 
tion. The  lights  of  London  lured  me.  But  one 
day  something  happened,  I  know  not  what,  that 
drove  all  thought  of  the  great  world  of  busy 
cities  for  ever  from  my  mind." 

"  What  happened  ?  "  I  cried,  for  Willie  paused 
and  seemed  to  fall  into  a  reverie. 

"  What  happened  ?  "  he  resumed,  rousing 
himself.  "  I  don't  know,  but  something  happened 
that  in  a  flash  changed  my  whole  conception  of 
life,  of  the  world,  of  the  universe,  of  the  past,  the 
present,  and  the  future.  I  cannot  understand  it 
myself  ;  so  how  can  I  hope  to  make  you  under- 
stand ?     But  I  will  try. 

"  I  am  not,  as  most  people  suppose,  an  absolute 
wild  man  of  the  woods.  I  have  a  local  habitation 
and  a  name.  Do  you  know  the  country  about 
Great  Green  Lake  ?  Yes,  well,  when  I  first  came 
out  I  bought  a  few  acres  of  land  near  by  where 
the  Manchester  river  runs  out,  cleared  a  patch  and 
built  me  a  house,  well,  perhaps  a  shanty  is  a  more 
suitable  term  than  house.  There  I  keep  a  few 
books — classics,  and  the  stores  I  need,  and  there 
I  find  an  occasional  letter  from  the  outside  world. 
There  I  generally  spend  the  few  unpleasant  weeks 
of  the  early  spring  and  late  fall,  and  in  a  sense  it  is 


WILLIE   WHISPER  i$ 

my   home ;     but,    thank   God,    in    this    favoured 
corner  of  the  world  man  wants  but  little  shelter, 
and  for  nine  months  out  of  the  twelve  the  woods 
are  my  real  home  and  the  sky  my  roof.     Well,  I 
was  sitting  outside  the  house  one  evening  watching, 
in  a  perfectly  normal  state  of  mind  and  body,  the 
blessed    sun    go    down,    when    suddenly    a    most 
appalling  sensation  engulfed  me.    The  house,  the 
lake,  the  forest,  the  firmament,  and — oh,  the  horror 
of   it!     I   myself — became  utter   nothingness.     It 
was    indescribably    awful.        But    instantaneously 
that    nothingness    became    every  thingness.     In    a 
flash  I  saw  myself,  all  past,  present,  and  future, 
all  created  or  to  be  created  things  as  one  point 
without  dimensions,  position  in  time  or  space,  or 
anything.     In  a  flash  it  came.     In  a  flash  it  was 
gone,  and  I  was  there  a  solitary  man,  brooding  in 
the  dusk,  my  back  against  a  tree.     It  passed  abso- 
lutely, but  it  left  an  indelible  impression  impos- 
sible to  convey  in  words.     Language  is  based  on 
phenomena   and  conceptions  of   time,  space,  and 
dimensions,  and  language  cannot  deal  with  some- 
thing outside  of  limitations.     I  can  only  describe 
the   impression   as   one  of   completion,  of  perfec- 
tion, of   flawless   oneness.     I    knew  myself   to  be 
an   imperishable  atom    in    one   great    whole    and 


i6  CANADIAN   NIGHTS 

akin  to  everything  external  to  me   that   I   could 
sense. 

"  Did  something  snap  in  my  brain  ?  I  don't 
know.  People  say  I  am  crazy,  '  crazy  as  a  loon,' 
as  your  Indian  said.  Well,  maybe  I  am,  but  I  am 
sane  enough  to  know  it.  The  Indians  think  that 
I  and  the  beasts  and  birds  talk  together  and 
understand  each  other  ;  and  that  I  hold  whispered 
conversations  with  the  trees  and  little  herbs  and 
flowers  of  the  field,  and  call  me  therefore  Willie 
Whisper.  That  is,  of  course,  all  nonsense ;  but 
it  is  true  that  the  momentary  sense  of  oneness 
exposed  some  cord  of  sensitiveness  that  vibrates 
to  all  the  life  about  me.  It  developed  some  sort 
of  community  of  interest — shall  I  say  of  intelli- 
gence ? — between  me  and  other  living  things. 
Some  sense  other  than  the  ordinary  physical 
senses  came  into  embryonic  being  and,  in  some 
way  that  I  do  not  in  the  least  understand,  I  do 
become  conscious  of  facts  and  happenings  through 
some  medium  unconnected  with  the  ordinary 
means  whereby  the  self  becomes  aware  of  pheno- 
mena external  to  it.  I  cannot  control  it.  The 
relative  importance  of  events  appears  to  have  no 
bearing  upon  it.     For  instance,  I   told  you  that 


WILLIE   WHISPER  17 

men  are  coming  here  and  so  they  surely  are,  for 
when  these  perceptions  come  to  me  they  are 
never  wrong,  but  it  is  improbable  that  the  advent 
of  these  strangers  has  any  bearing  upon  the 
course  of  your  life  or  of  mine,  and  why  it  should 
have  been  perceived  by  me  I  cannot  say. 

"  Well  now,"  said  Willie,  getting  up  and  stretch- 
ing himself,  "  I  have  talked  enough  and  more  than 
enough  about  myself.  I  have  talked  the  sun 
down  below  the  tops  of  those  pines,  and  I  only 
hope  I  have  not  bored  you  nearly  to  tears.  Why 
I  have  thus  discoursed  about  my  most  uninteresting 
life  and  experiences  goodness  only  knows,  but  it 
has  at  least  eaten  up  some  hours  of  a  necessarily 
uneventful  day.  Come,  it  is  getting  chilly.  Let 
us  in  to  cook  our  supper  and  then,  to  while  away 
the  time  till  sweet  sleep  sets  us  free  to  wander, 
we  must  talk  of  some  of  our  experiences  in  the 
wilds."  So  we  strolled  back  to  camp,  carried  in 
fuel  for  the  night,  cooked  our  supper  of  trout, 
frizzling  in  fat  pork,  made  up  a  bright  fire  of 
sweet-smelling  birch,  and  sat  down  to  smoke 
and  yam. 

"  Well,  Willie,"  said  I  "  you  have  done  me  a 
good  turn,  and  a  day  that  would  have  been  weary 


i8  CANADIAN   NIGHTS 

has  passed  in  most  interesting  talk.  One  good 
turn  deserves  another,  but  with  all  the  will  in  the 
world  I  don't  know  how  I  can  repay  you.  I  am 
fresh  from  affairs  and  men,  but  the  great  world 
and  the  ways  of  it  have  but  little  changed  since 
you  left  it  not  so  very  many  years  ago,  and  neither 
current  politics  nor  recent  society  doings,  scandal- 
ous or  otherwise,  would  interest  you.  Instead  of 
that  you  shall  tell  me  something  of  your  own  life 
in  the  woods  and  on  the  plains  and  mountains. 
I'm  only  an  amateur  of  the  prairies  and  the 
Rockies,  and  I  dare  say  you  have  forgotten  twice 
as  much  as  I  shall  ever  know." 

"  There  you're  wrong,"  said  Willie  ;  "  I  don't 
think,  leading  this  kind  of  life,  that  one  ever 
forgets  what  happens  in  it.  You  see  it's  all  there 
is,  and  to  a  solitary  man  memory  takes  the  place 
of  a  library  and  of  society.  If  I'm  sitting  over 
the  fire  and  want  diversion  all  I  have  to  do  is  to 
run  over  in  remembrance  some  of  my  early  ex- 
periences ;  the  more  you  think,  the  more  you 
remember.  It's  like  taking  out  a  book  that 
you've  once  read  and  half  forgotten,  and  finding 
it  full  of  bright  pictures." 

"  Well,  we  have  no  books  here,"   I   answered. 


WILLIE   WHISPER  19 

"  We  have  the  evening  to  v^hile  away ;  dip  into 
your  memory  library  and  let  us  have  yarns  or 
pictures — I  don't  mind  v^hich.  A  man  v/ho  lives 
alone  vdth  nature  ought  to  have  a  lot  to  tell." 

"  No,"  said  Willie,  looking  into  the  fire,  "  I  can't 
talk  about  the  life  I  lead  now^.  A  solitary  life  leaves 
no  record.  It  is  enough  for  me  to  live  it — I  don't 
want  to  talk  it.  What  I  amuse  myself  by  recalling 
— and  I  don't  mind  telling  all  I  remember  about 
that — is  my  experience  as  an  ordinary  hunter. 
As  I  told  you,  I  wasn't  always  a  solitary  ;  and  before 
I  abandoned  civilisation  I  went  one  or  two  trips 
with  a  friend  ;  we  took  servants  and  gillies,  and 
did  it  in  comfort."  He  smiled  whimsically.  "  Go 
back  to  that  sort  of  thing  I  couldn't — but  it's 
amusing  to  remember." 

And  it  was  thus  that  we  came  to  talk  about 
Colorado  and  about  life  in  the  woods  and  on  the 
plains.  What  was  spoken  by  the  fire  on  those 
nights  has  long  gone  into  the  silence  that  engulfs 
all  human  speech ;  but  the  substance  of  it  as  I 
afterwards  wrote  it,  and  the  memory  of  those  far- 
off  days,  are  preserved  in  the  foUovnng  pages. 


A   COLORADO    SKETCH 

IT  would  appear  that  the  American  continent 
was  originally  of  considerably  larger  dimensions 
than  it  is  at  present.  It  was  probably  found  to 
be  altogether  too  large  for  comfort  or  convenience, 
and  it  was  reduced  by  the  simple  process  of 
pressing  or  squeezing  it  together  from  the  sides — 
an  operation  which  caused  it  to  crumple  up  to- 
wards the  centre,  and  produced  that  great,  elevated, 
tumbled,  and  tossed  region  generally  and  vaguely 
known  as  the  Rocky  Mountains.  If  this  simple 
theory  of  the  formation  of  a  continent  sounds 
somewhat  infantile,  you  must  remember  that  I 
am  not  a  scientific  man,  and  that  it  is  not  more 
unscientific  than  many  other  theories  of  creation. 
There  is  no  such  thing  as  a  chain  of  Rocky  Moun- 
tains. Under  that  name  are  included  various 
ranges  and  belts  of  mountains  and  hills,  which 
embrace  within  their  far-stretching  arms  fertile 
valleys,  arid  deserts,  sunny  hill-slopes  clothed  with 
valuable  timber,  parks  full  of  pastoral  beauty 
basking  beneath  a  sun  that  warms  them  into  semi- 


A   COLORADO   SKETCH  21 

tropical  life,  but  which  never  melts  the  virgin  snow 
whitening  the  hoary  heads  of  the  mountains  that 
for  ever  look  down  upon  those  smiling  scenes. 
Rich  and  extensive  plains,  tracts  of  inhabitable 
land  almost  large  enough  to  be  the  cradle  and 
home  of  nations,  are  included  in  the  Rocky  Moun- 
tains. Among  all  the  states  and  territories  that 
lie  wholly  or  partially  within  the  borders  of  this 
vast,  upheaved  region,  there  is  none,  so  far  as  I 
am  aware,  more  favoured  by  nature,  and,  at  the 
same  time,  more  accessible  to  man,  than  Colorado. 
It  is  easily  reached  from  all  the  great  cities  of  the 
Eastern  States ;  its  scenery  is  varied,  beautiful, 
grand,  and  even  magnificent.  Crystal  streams  of 
pure,  wholesome  water  rush  down  the  hill-sides, 
play  at  hide-and-seek  in  the  woods,  and  wander 
deviously  through  the  parks.  The  cHmate  is 
health-giving — unsurpassed,  as  I  beUeve,  anywhere 
— giving  to  the  jaded  spirit,  the  unstrung  nerves, 
and  weakened  body  a  stimulant,  a  tone,  and  a 
vigour  that  can  only  be  appreciated  by  those  who 
have  had  the  good  fortune  to  travel  or  reside  in 
that  region. 

The  parks  of  Colorado  constitute  its  special 
feature  :  there  is  nothing  elsewhere  on  the  American 
continent   resembling   them   in   natural  character- 


22  CANADIAN   NIGHTS 

istics.  They  are  not  valleys ;  they  are  too  flat 
and  too  extensive  for  that.  They  cannot  be 
called  plains,  for  they  are  not  flat  enough  ;  and, 
besides,  plains  are  generally  bare  and  destitute  of 
trees,  v^hile  the  parks  are  rich  in  timber,  v^ith 
beautifully  undulating  surfaces,  broken  up  by 
hills,  spurs  from  the  parent  range,  and  isolated 
mountains.  The  term  "  Park  "  is  usually  applied 
to  ground  more  or  less  artificially  made ;  and 
these  places  are  very  properly  called  parks,  for  they 
look,  if  it  be  not  rank  heresy  to  liken  nature  to 
art,  as  if  ground  naturally  picturesque  had  been 
carefully  laid  out  and  planted  with  most  consum- 
mate skill  and  taste.  Some  of  them  are  of  great 
size,  such  as  the  North,  Middle,  South,  and  St. 
Louis  Parks  ;  others — and  it  is  w^ith  them  I  am 
best  acquainted — are  comparatively  small. 

There  are  many  things  to  arouse  deep  interest 
in  that  favoured  region.  Where  you  find  lofty 
mountains,  foot-hills,  plain,  valley,  forest,  and 
quick-flowing  stream,  in  a  southern  latitude,  you 
have  in  combination  all  that  can  gratify  the 
scientific  student,  as  well  as  all  that  can  content 
the  eye  of  man,  in  the  way  of  scenery.  The  philo- 
sopher who  devotes  himself  to  the  study  of  atmos- 
pheric   conditions    could    nowhere    find    a    more 


A   COLORADO   SKETCH  23 

fitting  field  for  observation.  The  mountain  ranges 
and  extensive  level  spaces  comprised  v^ithin  their 
limits  are  important  factors  in  the  economy  of 
nature.  The  great  masses  of  heat-radiating  rock 
temper  the  w^inds  that  blov^  over  them,  and  shed 
genial  warmth  far  and  wide.  The  whole  region 
is  one  vast  brewery  of  storms.  Chemical  changes 
are  constantly  going  on.  Electricity  is  working 
with  exceptional  vigour,  riving  the  solid  rocks, 
devastating  trees,  and  putting  forth  most  vividly 
the  awful  and  mysterious  manifestations  of  its 
strength.  Hot  currents  and  cold  currents  fight 
aerial  battles  round  those  patient  peaks,  that  stand 
unmoved  amidst  the  roar  and  racket  of  elemental 
strife.  Frequent  lightnings  blaze  or  flicker  round 
the  mountain  heads  ;  continuous  thunder  crashes 
on  their  slopes,  and  rolls  and  rumbles  in  the 
caverns  and  valleys  that  seam  their  sides.  Tem- 
pests shriek  roimd  the  crags,  and  moan  dismally 
as  they  toss  the  gnarled  and  matted  branches  of 
the  stunted  trees  that  force  their  adventurous 
way  up  the  broad  shoulders  of  the  range.  Snow 
in  winter,  rain  and  hail  in  summer,  pour  upon  the 
higher  summits ;  while,  beneath,  the  land  is 
glowing  under  a  cloudless  sky.  Contending  air- 
currents     of     different     density     discharge     their 


24  CANADIAN   NIGHTS 

moisture  on  the  hills.  The  sun  draws  up  fresh 
moisture  from  the  valleys,  like  drawing  water 
from  a  well.  All  nature  seems  seething  in  that 
region  of  heat  and  cold,  sunshine  and  tempest, 
dryness  and  damp,  constantly  fabricating  those 
great  cloud  masses  that,  breaking  away  from  their 
cradle,  carry  rain  and  fertility  over  thousands  and 
thousands  of  miles.  Sometimes  they  over-exert 
themselves,  carry  their  good  intentions  too  far, 
exceed  their  proper  limits,  and,  transgressing  the 
boundaries  of  their  native  land,  cross  the  wide 
Atlantic  and  pour  their  accumulated  store  of  rain 
upon  those  already  sodden  little  islands.  Great 
Britain  and  Ireland. 

The  parks  and  valleys  which  spread  out  beneath 
the  mountains,  or  nestle  cosily  amid  the  warm 
folds  of  the  forest  mantles  which  clothe  them, 
play  also  an  important  part.  They  act  as  reser^ 
voirs ;  they  catch  the  little,  tiny,  ice-cold  rills 
that  trickle  out  from  under  the  ever-melting  but 
never-melted  snow,  gather  them  together,  hold 
them  till  they  grow  strong  enough  to  carve  their 
way  through  the  granite  flanks  that  hem  them  in, 
and  launch  them  out  into  the  world,  forming 
rivulets  bright  and  sparkling,  flecked  with  light 
and  shade,  over  which  the  cjuivering  aspen  bends 


A   COLORADO    SKETCH  25 

from  banks  sweet  and  bright  with  flowers  ;  growing 
into  brooks  down  which  lumber  may  be  rafted ; 
swelling  into  streams  which  carry  irrigation  and 
fertility  to  arid  wastes ;  becoming  rivers  upon 
which  steamboats  ply  and  ships  ride  at  anchor. 

Physical  geography  is  a  fascinating  science  ;  and 
to  the  student  of  it  nothing  can  be  more  interesting 
than  to  stand  upon  some  commanding  mountain 
top,  and,  with  a  large,  comprehensive  view,  study 
the  configuration  of  the  country  that  gives  birth 
to  those  rivers  that  in  their  course  determine  the 
natural  geographical  features  of  a  continent,  and 
consequently  shape  the  destiny  of  a  race.  From 
many  a  peak  in  Colorado  the  geographer  can  trace 
the  devious  line  of  the  "  water-shed,"  the  "  divide  " 
that  separates  the  rivers  and  sends  them  out, 
each  on  its  appointed  course  ;  and  can  see,  shining 
like  silver  threads,  the  rivulets  from  which  they 
spring.  Looking  westward,  and  to  the  north  and 
south,  he  can  see  the  fountains  of  both  Plattes,  of 
the  Rio  Grande — the  Grand  river — the  Arkansas, 
the  Blue,  the  White,  and  the  Bear  rivers,  and 
other  streams  which  unite  to  form  that  most 
extraordinary  of  all  rivers  on  the  American  conti- 
nent— the  Colorado.  Turning  to  the  east,  a  very 
different  scene  greets  his  eye  ;    there,  spread  out 


26  CANADIAN   NIGHTS 

like  an  ocean  beneath  him,  lies  the  Prairie,  that 
great  deposit  of  gravel,  sand,  and  unstratified 
clays,  the  debris  of  the  mountain  range  on  which 
he  stands. 

Where  could  the  geologist  find  a  region  more 
suitable  for  the  exercise  of  his  peculiar  branch  of 
science  than  one  which  combines  the  vast  deposit 
of  the  prairies  with  mountain  masses  obtruded 
from  the  bowels  of  the  earth,  and  deep  canons 
exposing  broad  sections  of  the  earth's  crust  to  his 
view  ?  And  where  is  the  mineralogist  more  likely 
to  be  rewarded  for  his  pains  ?  As  to  the  botanist, 
I  would  almost  warn  him  from  visiting  those 
scenes,  lest  he  should  never  be  able  to  tear  him- 
self away  ;  for  the  variety  of  the  flora  is  infinite, 
ranging  from  Alpine  specimens  blooming  amid 
everlasting  snows,  to  flowers  of  a  very  different 
character,  growing  in  rich  luxuriance  in  deep 
valleys  under  a  subtropical  sun. 

I  have  not  included  hunting  among  the  sciences, 
but  in  reality  I  might  have  done  so.  It  is  a  very 
exact  science,  and  one  in  which  excellence  is 
rarely  obtained.  Many  men  never  become,  never 
can  become,  good  hunters.  They  are  not  endowed 
with  the  necessary  faculties  ;  and  those  who  are 
gifted  with  them  require  years  of  study  and  hard 


A   COLORADO    SKETCH  27 

work  before  they  can  be  entitled  to  call  themselves 
masters  of  the  art.  I  hope  no  one  labours  under 
the  delusion  that  hunting  is  a  mere  barbarous, 
bloodthirsty  sport.  Every  good  hunter  will  agree 
with  me  that  it  is  not  the  killing  of  the  animal 
that  gives  pleasure.  The  charm  lies  in  over- 
coming difficulties — in  matching  your  natural  in- 
telligence and  acquired  knowledge  and  skill  against 
the  instinct,  cunning,  intellect,  and  reason  of  the 
animal  you  are  endeavouring  to  outwit.  The 
reward  of  the  hunter  is  the  same  as  that  of  the 
student  of  languages,  of  the  archaeologist,  of  the 
geologist — in  fact,  of  all  scientific  people.  His 
triumph  is  the  triumph  of  unravelling  a  mystery, 
tracing  and  discovering  a  hidden  fact,  grappHng 
with  and  overcoming  a  difliculty.  It  is  the  fact  of 
overcoming,  not  the  act  of  killing,  that  brightens 
the  hunter's  eye  and  renders  his  occupation  so 
charming.  The  hunter's  craft  gives  health,  its 
surroundings  are  beautiful,  it  calls  forth  some  of 
the  best  qualities  of  man,  it  is  full  of  fascination, 
and  it  is  no  wonder  that  primitive  races  find  it 
difficult  to  emerge  from  the  hunting  condition. 
It  is  most  annoying  that  everything  that  is  pleasant 
is  all  wrong.  We  all  know  that  peoples,  in  their 
progress    towards    civilisation,    advance    from    the 


28  CANADIAN   NIGHTS 

hunting  to  the  pastoral  state,  from  the  pastoral 
to  the  agricultural,  and  from  thence  to  a  condition 
of  existence  in  which  the  manufacturing  instincts 
of  man  are  fully  developed.  This  is  the  sequence 
— hunting,  cattle-tending,  sheep-herding,  fesh  air, 
good  water,  lovely  scenery,  wholesome  excitement, 
healthy  lives,  and — barbarism  ;  agriculture,  manu- 
factures, great  cities,  hideous  country,  poisoned 
water,  impure  air,  dirt,  disease,  and — civilisation. 
It  is  difficult  sometimes  to  know  exactly  what  to 
say  when  preaching  civilisation  to  the  savage.  It 
is  certain  that,  so  far  as  the  masses  of  the  people 
are  concerned,  the  highest  aim  of  civilisation  is 
to  secure  to  a  large  number  the  same  blessings  that 
a  small  number  obtain,  freely  and  without  trouble, 
in  an  uncivilised  state. 

It  was  sport — or,  as  it  would  be  called  in  the 
States,  hunting — that  led  me  first  to  visit  Estes 
Park.  Some  friends  and  I  had  visited  Denver 
at  Christmas  to  pay  our  proper  devotions  to  the 
good  things  of  this  earth  at  that  festive  season, 
and,  hearing  rumours  of  much  game  at  Estes 
Park,  we  determined  to  go  there.  We  spent  a 
day  or  two  laying  in  suppUes,  purchasing  many  of 
the  necessaries  and  a  few  of  the  luxuries  of  life, 
and  wound  up  our  sojourn  in  Denver  with  a  very 


A   COLORADO   SKETCH  29 

pleasant  dinner  at  an  excellent  restaurant,  not 
inaptly  styled  the  "Delmonico"  of  the  West. 
During  dinner  one  of  those  sudden  and  violent 
storms  peculiar  to  that  region  came  on.  When  we 
sat  down  the  stars  were  shining  clear  and  hard 
with  the  brilliancy  that  is  so  beautiful  in  those 
high  altitudes  on  a  cold  dry  mid-winter  night,  and 
not  a  breath  of  wind  disturbed  the  stillness  of  the 
air ;  but,  before  we  had  half  satisfied  the  appetites 
engendered  by  the  keen  frosty  atmosphere,  the 
stars  were  all  shrouded  in  cloud,  the  gale  was 
howling  through  the  streets,  and  snow  was  whirl- 
ing in  the  air,  piling  up  in  drifts  wherever  it  found 
a  lodgment,  and  sifting  in  fine  powder  through 
every  chink  and  cranny  in  the  door.  It  did  not 
last  long.  Before  morning  the  sky  was  clear, 
cloudless,  steely,  star-bespangled  as  before,  and 
when  we  left  by  an  early  train  for  Longmont 
Station  the  sun  was  shining  undimmed  upon 
fields  of  freshly-fallen  snow. 

By  way  of  enlivening  the  journey  we  were 
treated  by  thoughtful  nature  to  a  magnificent 
spectacle — a  beautiful  exhibition  of  that  pheno- 
menon known,  I  believe,  as  a  parhelion.  The  sun 
was  only  a  few  degrees  above  the  horizon.  The 
sky  was  very  clear  and  intensely  blue  overhead, 


30  CANADIAN   NIGHTS 

but  slightly  clouded  with  a  thin  gauzy  film  round 
the  horizon,  and,  on  looking  up,  one  could  see 
that  the  air  was  full  of  minute  crystals  of  ice. 
It  was  tolerably  cold — probably  about  fifteen  or 
twenty  degrees  below  zero — and  perfectly  calm. 
All  round  the  horizon  ran  a  belt  of  pure  bright 
white  light,  passing  through  the  sun.  This  belt 
was  not  exactly  level,  but  dipped  a  little  to  the 
east  and  west,  and  rose  slightly  to  the  north  and 
south.  The  sun  was  surrounded  by  a  halo  showing 
rainbow  colours  on  the  inside,  which  faded  into 
white  light  on  the  outside  edge.  A  bright  per- 
pendicular ray  of  white  light  cut  through  the  sun, 
forming,  with  the  belt  that  ran  round  the  horizon, 
a  perfect  cross.  There  was  a  similar  cross  in  the 
west,  and  another  in  the  north,  but  none  in  the 
south  at  first,  but  after  an  hour  or  so  a  fourth 
cross  formed  in  that  quarter  also.  Right  overhead 
was  a  partially  formed  horizontal  rainbow,  the 
colours  of  which  were  very  bright.  Sometimes 
this  rainbow  would  develop  into  an  almost  perfect 
circle ;  then  again  it  would  diminish  till  there 
remained  only  a  small  segment  of  the  circle.  The 
points  where  the  solar  halo  cut  the  belt  which 
encircled  the  horizon  were  intensely  brilliant — 
almost  as  bright  as  the  sun — and  rays  of  white 


A   COLORADO   SKETCH  31 

light  struck  down  from  them.  As  the  sun  rose 
the  halo  surrounding  it  became  very  dazzling,  and 
assumed  the  colours  of  the  rainbow,  and  a  second 
rainbow- tin  ted  circle  formed  outside  it.  The 
rainbow  in  the  zenith  increased  at  the  same  time 
in  brilliancy,  and  a  second  circle  formed  outside  that 
also.  The  whole  phenomenon  was  very  beautiful ; 
it  continued  some  hours,  gradually  fading  away, 
and  finally  disappeared  about  three  in  the  afternoon. 
The  next  morning  we  loaded  up  a  wagon  with 
stores  and  started  on  our  toilsome  expedition  to 
the  Park.  It  is  very  easy  work — it  is  not  work  at 
all,  in  fact — to  get  into  the  Park  nowadays.  It 
was  a  very  different  affair  at  that  time.  There 
are  two  good  stage- roads  now ;  there  was  no  road 
at  all  then — only  a  rough  track  going  straight  up 
hill  and  down  dale,  and  over  rocks  and  through 
trees  and  along  nearly  perpendicular  slopes,  with 
the  glorious  determination  to  go  straight  forward 
of  an  old  Roman  road,  but  without  any  of  the 
engineering  skill  and  labour  expended  upon  the 
latter.  It  was  a  hard  road  to  travel,  covered  with 
snow  and  slippery  with  ice  ;  but  by  dint  of  literally 
putting  our  shoulders  to  the  wheel  uphill,  by 
chaining  the  wheels  downhill,  and  by  holding  up 
the  wagon  by  ropes  and  main   strength  on  pre- 


32  CANADIAN   NIGHTS 

cipitous  hill-sides,  we  got  to  our  destination  very 
late  at  night  with  only  one  serious  accident — the 
fracture  of  a  bottle  containing  medical  comforts. 

The  road  from  Longmont  to  the  Park  traverses 
the  level  plain  for  about  fifteen  miles,  and  then 
enters  a  canon  flanked  on  either  side  by  strange- 
shaped  masses  of  bright  red  sandstone,  outcropping 
from  the  surface,  and  in  some  places  tilted  nearly 
on  end.  It  then  follows  along  the  bank  of  the 
St.  Vrain  River  —  teeming  with  trout  —  crosses 
that  stream,  and  works  its  way  with  many  curves 
and  twists  up  through  the  foot-hills,  along  grassy 
slopes,  through  pine  forests,  past  fantastic  masses 
of  rock,  crosses  a  little  creek  hiding  deep  among 
aspens  and  poplars,  and,  after  plunging  dovm  two 
violent  descents  and  mounting  up  again,  enters 
a  long  valley  rejoicing  in  the  euphonious  title  of 
"  Muggins's  Gulch."  I  do  not  know  who  Muggins 
was — no  doubt  an  honest  citizen  ;  but  he  should 
have  changed  his  name  before  bestowing  it  upon 
such  a  pretty  spot.  You  ascend  this  valley  at  an 
easy  gradient  till  you  reach  the  summit,  when 
suddenly  a  lovely  view  bursts  upon  you,  and  the 
Park  lies  spread  out  at  your  feet.  On  the  left  the 
hill-side  rises  steeply,  crowned  with  a  buttress 
of   frowning   rock.     On    the  right  a  mountain   of 


A  COLORADO   SKETCH  3J 

almost  solid  rock  stands  naked  and  savage.  In 
front,  beyond  the  Park,  the  main  range  of  moun- 
tains rears  itself,  topped  with  snow,  rent  in  great 
chasms,  pierced  by  the  gloomy  heavily-timbered 
depths  of  black  canon.  On  the  extreme  left  and 
in  the  distance  Long's  Peak  towers  above  its 
fellows  ;  and  beneath  you,  in  strange  contrast  with 
the  barren  foot-hills  through  which  you  have 
passed,  and  the  savage  stern  grandeur  of  the 
range,  lies  the  Park — undulating,  grass-covered, 
dotted  with  trees,  peaceful  and  quiet,  with  a 
silver  thread  of  water  curving  and  twining  through 
its  midst. 

A  log-house  is  comfortable  enough  at  any  time  ; 
and  on  that  particular  night  it  appeared  eminently 
so  to  us,  as,  cold  and  wearied,  we  passed  the 
hospitable  threshold.  What  a  supper  we  devoured, 
and  what  logs  we  heaped  upon  the  fire,  till  we 
made  the  flames  leap  and  roar  on  the  open  hearth  ! 
and  then  lay  down  on  mattresses  on  the  floor,  and 
listened  to  the  howling  of  the  wind,  till  the  noise 
of  the  tempest,  confusedly  mingling  with  our 
dreams,  was  finally  hushed  in  deep,  unbroken 
sleep. 

The  winter  weather  in  Northern  Colorado  is 
most    enjoyable.     At   the   high   altitude   of  Estes 


34  CANADIAN   NIGHTS 

Park,  between  7000  and  8000  feet  above  sea-level, 
it  consists  of  alternate  short  storms  and  long  spells 
of  fine  weather.  You  will  have  several  days  of 
bright  clear  weather,  hard  frost,  the  thermometer 
very  low,  but  the  sun  so  powerful  that  you  can 
lie  down  and  go  fast  asleep,  as  I  have  frequently 
done,  on  a  warm,  sunny,  and  sheltered  bank  in  the 
very  depth  of  winter.  Then  the  clouds  begin  to 
accumulate,  growing  denser  and  denser,  till  they 
break  and  descend  in  a  snowstorm  of  some  hours' 
duration.  The  cattle,  which  before  dotted  all  the 
open  ground,  disappear  as  if  by  magic,  seeking  and 
finding  shelter  in  little  hidden  gulches  and  un- 
noticed valleys,  and  the  land  looks  utterly  desolate. 
The  snowstorm  is  invariably  succeeded  by  a  violent 
tempest  of  wind,  which  speedily  clears  the  ground 
of  snow,  heaping  it  up  in  drifts,  and  blowing 
the  greater  part  of  it  into  the  air  in  such  a  thin 
powdery  condition  that  it  is  taken  up  by  the 
atmosphere  and  disappears  completely.  So  dry  is 
the  air  and  so  warm  the  winter's  sun  that  snow 
evaporates  without  leaving  any  moisture  behind 
it.  Another  period  of  clear,  still,  cold  weather 
then  follows  after  the  gale. 

The  violence  of  these  tempests  is   very   great. 
Many  a  night  have  I  lain  awake  listening  to  the 


A  COLORADO   SKETCH  35 

screams  and  clamour  of  the  gale ;  now  rising 
suddenly  to  a  shriek  as  a  fresh  gust  of  wind  came 
tearing  down  the  level  plain,  snatching  up  pebbles 
and  stones,  sending  them  hopping  over  the  ground, 
and  hurling  them  against  the  log-house ;  then 
sinking  to  a  long  melancholy  moan ;  whistling 
shrilly  around  the  walls,  hoarsely  howling  in  the 
wide  chimney ;  while,  under  all,  the  low  con- 
tinuous roar  of  the  tempest  raging  in  the  distant 
forest  sounded  like  a  mighty  bass  note  in  the 
savage  music  of  the  storm. 

That  is  the  time  to  appreciate  the  comfort  of  a 
warm  weather-proof  house,  to  snuggle  up  in  your 
blanket  and  idly  watch  the  merry  sparks  fly  up 
the  chimney,  and  the  warm  ruddy  flicker  of  the 
fire  casting  shadows  on  the  rough  brown  pine- 
logs;  gazing  and  blinking,  listening  and  thinking, 
one's  thoughts  perhaps  wandering  very  far  away, 
and  getting  less  and  less  coherent.  The  storm 
chimes  in  with  your  fancies,  mingles  with  your 
dreams,  till  with  a  start  you  open  your  eyes,  and 
find  to  your  astonishment  the  level  rays  of  the 
rising  sun  lighting  up  a  scene  as  calm  and  peaceful 
as  if  the  tempest  had  never  been. 

In  spring  and  summer  the  scene  and  climate  are 
very  different.     Ice  and  snow  and  withered  grass 


36  CANADIAN   NIGHTS 

have  passed  away,  and  everything  is  basking  and 
glowing  under  a  blazing  sun,  hot  but  always 
tempered  with  a  cool  breeze.  Cattle  wander  about 
the  plain — or  try  to  wander,  for  they  are  so  fat 
they  can  scarcely  move.  Water- fowl  frequent  the 
lakes.  The  whole  earth  is  green,  and  the  margins 
of  the  streams  are  luxuriant  with  a  profuse  growth 
of  wild  flowers  and  rich  herbage.  The  air  is 
scented  with  the  sweet-smelling  sap  of  the  pines, 
whose  branches  welcome  many  feathered  visitors 
from  southern  climes ;  an  occasional  humming- 
bird whirrs  among  the  shrubs,  trout  leap  in  the 
creeks,  insects  buzz  in  the  air ;  all  nature  is  active 
and  exuberant  with  life. 

I  and  a  Scotch  gillie,  who  had  accompanied  me 
from  home,  took  up  our  abode  in  a  little  log- 
shanty  close  to  the  ranch-house,  and  made  our- 
selves very  cosy.  There  was  not  much  elegance 
or  luxury  in  our  domicile,  but  plenty  of  comfort. 
Two  rough  rooms  —  a  huge  fireplace  in  one  of 
them — two  beds,  and  no  other  furniture  of  any 
kind  whatever,  completed  our  establishment. 
But  what  on  earth  did  we  want  with  furniture  ? 
We  were  up  before  daylight,  out  hunting  or  fishing 
all  day,  had  our  food  at  the  ranch,  sat  on  the 
ground  and  smoked  our  pipes,  and  went  to  bed 


A   COLORADO   SKETCH  37 

early.  One's  rest  is  a  good  deal  broken  in  winter 
time,  and  it  is  necessary  to  go  to  bed  early  in  order 
to  get  enough  sleep,  because  in  very  cold  weather 
it  is  highly  advisable  to  keep  a  fire  burning  all 
night ;  and,  as  yet,  hunters  have  not  evolved 
the  faculty  of  putting  on  logs  in  their  sleep.  It 
would  be  most  useful  if  they  could  do  so ;  and, 
according  to  the  law  of  evolution,  some  of  them 
by  this  time  ought  to  have  done  it.  However, 
I  was  not  much  troubled ;  for  Sandie,  who  slept 
by  the  fire,  was  very  wakeful.  I  would  generally 
awake  about  two  or  three  in  the  morning  to  find 
the  logs  blazing  and  crackling  merrily,  and  Sandie 
sitting  in  the  ingle  smoking  his  pipe,  plunged  in 
deep  thought. 

"  Well,  Sandie,"  I  would  say,  **  what  kind  of  a 
night  is  it,  and  what  are  you  thinking  of  ?  " 

"  Oh,  well,  it's  a  fine  night,  just  a  wee  bit  cheely 
outside  (thermometer  about  25°  below  zero) ; 
and  I'm  thinking  we  did  not  make  that  stalk  after 
the  big  stag  just  right  yesterday  ;  and  I'm  thinking 
where  we'll  go  to-day  to  find  him."  Then  we 
would  smoke  a  little — haver  a  little,  as  Sandie 
would  call  it — and  discuss  the  vexed  question  of 
how  we  made  the  mistake  with  the  big  stag ; 
and  having  come  to  a  satisfactory  conclusion,  and 


38  CANADIAN   NIGHTS 

agreed  that  the  stag  had  the  biggest  antlers  that 
ever  were  seen — ^which  is  always  the  case  with  the 
deer  you  donH  get — we  would  put  out  our  pipes, 
and  sleep  till  daylight  warned  us  to  set  about  our 
appointed  task,  which  was  to  find  a  deer  somehow, 
for  the  larder  wanted  replenishing. 

In  those  days  you  had  not  far  to  seek  for  game, 
and  you  could  scarcely  go  wrong  in  any  direction 
at  any  season  of  the  year.  In  winter  and  spring 
the  Park  still  swarms  with  game ;  but  it  is  neces- 
sary in  summer  to  know  where  to  look  for  it,  to 
understand  its  manners  and  customs,  to  go  further 
and  to  work  harder  than  formerly,  for  Estes  Park 
is  civilised.  In  summer  time  beautiful  but  danger- 
ous creatures  roam  the  Park.  The  tracks  of  tmy 
little  shoes  are  more  frequent  than  the  less  in- 
teresting, but  harmless,  footprints  of  mountain 
sheep.  You  are  more  likely  to  catch  a  glimpse  of 
the  flicker  of  the  hem  of  a  white  petticoat  in  the 
distance  than  of  the  glancing  form  of  a  deer. 
The  marks  of  carriage  wheels  are  more  plentiful 
than  elk  signs,  and  you  are  not  now  so  likely  to  be 
scared  by  the  human-like  track  of  a  gigantic  bear 
as  by  the  appalling  impress  of  a  number  eleven 
boot.  That  is  as  it  should  be.  There  is  plenty  of 
room    elsewhere    for    wild    beasts,    and    nature's 


A   COLORADO   SKETCH  39 

beauties  should  be  enjoyed  by  man.  I  well  re- 
member the  commencement  of  civilisation.  I 
was  sitting  on  the  stoop  of  the  log-shanty  one 
fine  hot  summer's  evening,  when  to  me  appeared 
the  strange  apparition  of  an  aged  gentleman  on  a 
diminutive  donkey.  He  was  the  first  stranger  I 
had  ever  seen  in  the  Park.  After  surveying  me  in 
silence  for  some  moments  he  observed,  "  Say,  is 
this  a  pretty  good  place  to  drink  whisky  in  ?  " 
I  replied  "  Yes,"  naturally,  for  I  have  never  heard 
of  a  spot  that  was  not  favourable  for  the  consump- 
tion of  whisky,  the  State  of  Maine  not  excepted. 
"  Well,  have  you  any  to  sell  ? "  he  continued. 
'*No,"  I  answered,  ''got  none."  After  gazing  at 
me  in  melancholy  silence  for  some  moments, 
evidently  puzzled  at  the  idea  of  a  man  and  a  house 
but  no  whisky,  he  went  slowly  and  sadly  on  his 
way,  and  I  saw  him  no  more. 

On  the  morning  that  Sandie  and  I  went  out, 
it  was  not  necessary  to  go  far  from  the  house. 
We  had  not  ridden  long  before  we  came  to  likely 
looking  country,  got  off,  unsaddled  and  tethered 
our  horses,  and  started  on  foot,  carefully  scanning 
the  ground  for  fresh  sign.  Soon  we  came  upon  it — 
quite  recently  formed  tracks  of  three  or  four  deer. 
Then  we  had  to  decide  upon  the  plan  of  opera- 


40  CANADIAN   NIGHTS 

tions  in  a  long  and  whispered  conversation ;  and 
finally,  having  settled  where  the  deer  were  likely 
to  be,  and  how  to  get  at  them,  we  made  a  long 
circuit,  so  as  to  be  down  wind  of  the  game,  and 
went  to  work.  The  ground  to  which  I  am  re- 
ferring is  very  rough.  It  slopes  precipitously 
towards  the  river.  Huge  masses  of  rock  lie 
littered  about  on  a  surface  pierced  by  many  per- 
pendicular jagged  crags,  hundreds  of  feet  high, 
and  long  ridges  and  spurs  strike  downward  from 
the  sheer  scarp  that  crowns  the  canon  of  the  river, 
forming  beautiful  little  glades — sheltered,  sunny, 
clothed  with  sweet  grass — on  which  the  deer  love 
to  feed. 

In  such  a  country  there  was  no  chance  of  seeing 
game  at  any  distance  ;  so  we  had  to  go  very  cau- 
tiously, examining  every  sign,  crawling  up  to  every 
little  ridge,  and  inch  by  inch  craning  our  heads  over 
and  peering  into  every  bush  and  under  every  tree. 
In  looking  over  a  rise  of  ground  it  is  advisable  for 
the  hunter  to  take  off  his  head-covering  unless  he 
wears  a  very  tight-fitting  cap.  I  have  often  laughed 
to  see  great  hunters  (great  in  their  own  estimation) 
raising  their  heads  most  carefully,  forgetting  that  a 
tall  felt  hat,  some  six  inches  above  their  eyes,  had 
already  been  for  some  time  in  view  of  the  deer. 


A   COLORADO   SKETCH  41 

Many  hunters  seem  to  think  that  the  deer  cannot  see 
them  till  they  see  the  deer. 

The  sportsman  cannot  go  too  slowly,  and  it  is 
better  to  hunt  out  one  little  gully  thoroughly  than 
to  cover  miles  of  ground  in  the  day.  If  he  walks 
rapidly  he  will  scare  heaps  of  deer,  hear  lots  of  crash- 
ing in  the  trees  and  scattering  of  stones,  and  per- 
haps see  the  whisk  of  a  white  tail,  or  the  glance  of  a 
dark  form,  through  the  trees,  but  never  get  a  shot 
for  his  pains.  We  pursued  a  different  plan — took 
each  little  gulch  separately,  and  carefully  crept  up 
it,  searching  every  inch  of  ground,  using  redoubled 
caution  towards  the  end  where  the  bush  is  thickest, 
and  especially  scanning  the  north  side  ;  for,  strange 
to  say,  deer  prefer  lying  on  the  north  side  of  valleys 
in  the  snow,  even  during  the  coldest  weather,  to 
resting  on  the  warm  sunny  grass  on  the  southern 
slopes.  Patiently  we  worked  ;  but  our  patience 
was  not  well  rewarded,  for  not  a  sign  of  anything 
did  we  see  till  our  entirely  foodless  stomachs  and 
the  nearly  shadowless  trees  indicated  that  it  was 
past  noon.  So  we  sat  us  down  in  a  nice  little 
sheltered  nook,  from  whence  we  commanded  a  good 
view  of  the  precipitous  cliffs  and  gullies  that  led 
down  to  the  tortuous  and  icebound  creek,  some 
thousands  of  feet  below  us,  as  well  as  of  the  face  of 


42  CANADIAN   NIGHTS 

the  mountain  that  reared  itself  on  the  opposite 
side,  and  betook  ourselves  to  food  and  reflection. 
It  is  very  pleasant  to  lie  comfortably  stretched  out 
with  nothing  to  do  but  to  gaze  with  idle  pleasure  and 
complete  content  upon  grand  and  varied  scenery. 
The  eye,  now  plunging  into  the  abyss  of  blue 
crossed  at  intervals  by  swiftly  moving  clouds,  now 
lowered  and  resting  on  the  earth,  pauses  for  a 
minute  on  the  dazzling  snow-white  summits,  then 
travels  down  through  dark  green  pine  woods, 
wanders  over  little  open  glades  or  valleys  grey  with 
withered  grass,  glances  at  steep  cliffs  and  great 
riven  masses  of  rock  which  time  and  weather  have 
detached  and  hurled  down  the  mountain  side,  and 
falls  at  last  upon  the  pale  green  belt  of  aspens  that 
fringes  the  river,  white  with  snow  where  spanned 
with  ice,  but  black  as  ink  where  a  rapid  torrent  has 
defied  the  frost.  Nor  is  the  eye  wearied  with  its 
journey ;  for  mountain,  valley,  cliff,  and  glade  are 
so  mingled,  and  are  so  constantly  changing  with 
light  and  shade,  that  one  could  look  for  hours  with- 
out a  wish  to  move.  The  mind  goes  half  asleep, 
and  wonders  lazily  whether  its  body  is  really  there 
in  the  heart  of  the  Rocky  Mountains  leading  a 
hunter's  life,  or  whether  it  is  not  all  a  dream — a 
dream  of  schoolboy  days  which  seemed  at  one  time 


A  COLORADO   SKETCH  43 

so   little   likely  to  be   realised,  and  yet  which  is 
at  length  fulfilled. 

It  must  not  be  supposed  that,  because  we  were 
half  asleep  and  wholly  dreaming,  we  were  not  also 
keeping  a  sharp  look-out ;  for  in  a  man  who  is  very 
much  accustomed  to  take  note  of  every  unusual 
object,  of  every  moving  thing,  and  of  the  slightest 
sign  of  any  living  creature — more  especially  if  he  has 
roamed  much  on  the  prairies  where  hostile  redskins 
lurk  and  creep — the  faculty  of  observation  is  so  con- 
stantly exercised  that  it  becomes  a  habit  uncon- 
sciously used,  and  he  is  all  the  time  seeing  sights, 
and  hearing  sounds,  and  smelling  smells,  and  noting 
them  down,  and  receiving  all  kinds  of  impressions 
from  all  external  objects,  without  being  the  least 
aware  of  it  himself.  However,  none  of  our  senses 
were  gratified  by  anything  that  betokened  the 
presence  of  game,  and,  after  resting  a  little  while, 
we  picked  up  our  rifles  and  stole  quietly  on  again. 
So  we  crept  and  hunted,  and  hunted  and  crept,  and 
peered  and  whispered,  and  wondered  we  saw  no- 
thing, till  the  pine  trees  were  casting  long  shadows 
to  the  east,  when  suddenly  Sandie,  who  was  a  pace  or 
two  in  front  of  me,  became  rigid,  changed  into  a  man 
of  stone,  and  then,  almost  imperceptibly,  a  hair's- 
breadth  at  a  time,  stooped  his  head  and  sank  down. 


44  CANADIAN   NIGHTS 

If  you  come  suddenly  in  sight  of  game,  you  should 
remain  perfectly  motionless  for  a  time,  and  sink  out 
of  sight  gradually ;  for  if  you  drop  down  quickly, 
the  movement  will  startle  it.  Deer  seem  to  be 
short-sighted.  They  do  not  notice  a  man,  even  close 
by,  unless  he  moves.  I  never  saw  a  man  so  excited 
at  the  sight  of  game,  and  yet  so  quiet,  as  Sandie. 
It  seemed  as  if  he  would  fly  to  pieces  ;  he  seized 
my  arm  with  a  grip  like  a  vice,  and  whispered,  "  Oh, 
a  great  stag  within  easy  shot  from  the  big  rock 
yonder  !  He  has  not  seen  me."  So,  prone  upon 
the  earth,  I  crawled  up  to  the  rock,  cocked  the  rifle, 
drew  a  long  breath,  raised  myself  into  a  sitting 
position,  got  a  good  sight  on  the  deer,  pulled,  and 
had  the  satisfaction  of  seeing  him  tumbling  head- 
long down  the  gulch,  till  he  stopped  stone-dead 
jammed  between  two  trees. 

Leaving  Sandie  to  prepare  the  stag  for  trans- 
portation, I  started  off  as  fast  as  I  could,  and 
brought  one  of  the  ponies  down  to  the  carcass.  It 
was  pretty  bad  going  for  a  four-footed  animal ;  but 
Colorado  horses,  if  used  to  the  mountains,  will  go 
almost  anywhere.  The  way  they  will  climb  up  places, 
and  slither  down  places,  and  pick  their  way  through 
"  wind-falls,"  is  marvellous.  They  seem  to  be 
possessed  of  any  number  of  feet,  and  to  put  them 


A   COLORADO   SKETCH  45 

down  always  exactly  at  the  right  moment  in  the 
right  place.  I  do  not  suppose  they  like  it,  for  they 
groan  and  grunt  the  while  in  a  most  piteous  manner. 
My  pony  was  sure-footed  and  willing,  and,  more- 
over, was  used  to  pack  game  ;  so  we  had  little 
trouble  with  him,  and  before  long  had  the  deer 
firmly  secured  on  the  saddle  and  were  well  on  our 
way  home.  It  was  well  for  us  that  we  killed  the  deer 
in  a  comparatively  accessible  place,  or  we  should 
not  have  got  him  in  that  night  or  the  next  day.  It 
was  almost  dark  when  we  topped  the  ridge,  and 
could  look  down  into  the  Park  and  see  the  range 
beyond,  and  there  were  plenty  of  signs  there  to  show 
that  a  storm  was  at  hand.  Right  overhead  the  stars 
were  shining,  but  all  the  sky  to  the  west  was  one 
huge  wall  of  cloud.  Black  Canon,  the  canon  of  the 
river,  and  all  the  great  rents  in  the  range  were  filled 
with  vapour,  and  all  the  mountains  were  wrapped 
in  cloud. 

When  we  left  the  ranch  that  night  after  a  good 
supper,  a  game  of  euchre,  and  sundry  pipes,  it  was 
pitch-dark,  and  light  flakes  of  snow  were  noiselessly 
floating  down  to  the  earth  ;  and,  when  we  got 
up  the  next  morning,  behold  !  there  was  not  a 
thing  to  be  seen.  Mountains,  ranch-house,  and 
everything  else  were  blotted  out  by  a  densely  falling 


46  CANADIAN   NIGHTS 

white,  bewildering  mass  of  snow.  Towards  noon 
it  lightened  up  a  little,  and  great  grey  shapes  of 
mountains  loomed  out  now  and  then  a  shade  darker 
than  the  white  wall  that  almost  hid  them  ;  but  the 
weather  was  not  fit  for  hunting,  and,  as  there  was 
nothing  else  to  be  done  out  of  doors,  we  made  a 
f^te  of  it,  as  a  French-Canadian  would  say,  and  de- 
voted ourselves  to  gun-cleaning  and  spinning  yarns. 
When  deep  snow  lies  upon  the  higher  grounds 
surrounding  Estes  Park,  wapiti  come  down  into 
the  Park  in  considerable  numbers.  The  wapiti  is  a 
splendid  beast,  the  handsomest  by  far  of  all  the  deer 
tribe.  He  is  called  an  elk  in  the  States — why,  I  do 
not  know ;  for  the  European  elk  is  identical  with 
the  American  moose,  and  a  moose  and  a  wapiti  are 
not  the  least  alike.  But  I  presume  the  wapiti  is 
called  by  the  Americans  an  elk  for  the  same  reason 
that  they  call  thrushes  robins,  and  grouse  partridges. 
The  reason,  I  dare  say,  is  a  good  one,  but  I  do  not 
know  what  it  is.  The  wapiti  enjoys  a  range  ex- 
tending from  the  Pacific  seaboard  to  the  Missis- 
sippi, and  from  the  north-west  territory  in  British 
possessions  down  to  Texas,  and  he  formerly  was 
found  all  the  way  across  the  continent  and  in  the 
Eastern  States.  He  is  exactly  like  the  European 
red  deer — only  about  twice  as  large — carries  mag- 


A  COLORADO   SKETCH  47 

nificent  antlers,  and  is  altogether  a  glorious  animal. 
Wapiti  are  very  shy.  They  require  quiet  and  large 
undisturbed  pastures ;  and  they  are  hunted  with 
a  thoughtless  brutality  that  must  shortly  lead  to 
their  extermination  in  civilised  districts.  They  do 
not  accustom  themselves  to  civilisation  as  easily  as 
do  moose  or  antelope,  but  resent  deeply  the  prox- 
imity of  man — that  is  to  say,  of  civilised  man,  for 
Indians  do  not  interfere  with  them  very  much. 
Indians,  as  a  rule,  are  not  really  fond  of  hunting ; 
they  hunt  for  subsistence,  not  for  pleasure,  and, 
where  buffalo  are  to  be  found,  never  trouble  their 
heads  about  smaller  game.  Elk  are  plentiful  in  any 
Indian  country  that  suits  them  ;  in  fact,  as  a  rule, 
there  is  very  little  use  in  hunting  wapiti  in  any 
country  that  is  not  exposed  to  Indian  incursions, 
and  the  more  dangerous  the  country,  the  better 
sport  you  are  likely  to  have.  But  this  is  not  an 
invariable  rule.  There  are  some  places  where 
wapiti  may  be  found  in  quite  sufficient  numbers 
to  repay  a  sportsman's  labour,  and  where  he  need 
not  incur  the  smallest  risk  to  life  or  limb.  I  imagine 
there  are  more  wapiti  to  be  found  in  Montana  and 
the  adjacent  territories  than  in  any  other  part  of 
the  United  States.  Wapiti  are  to  be  met  with  in 
forests  of  timber,  among  the  mountains,  and  on  the 


48  CANADIAN   NIGHTS 

treeless  prairie.  They  are,  I  think,  most  numerous 
on  the  plains,  but  the  finest  specimens  are  found  in 
timbered  districts.  One  might  suppose  that  branch- 
ing antlers  would  cause  inconvenience  to  an  animal 
running  through  the  tangle  of  a  primeval  forest ; 
but  the  contrary  appears  to  be  the  case,  for  in  all 
countries  the  w^oodland  deer  carry  far  finer  heads 
than  the  stags  of  the  same  species  that  range  in 
open  country.  The  size  of  the  antlers  depends 
entirely  on  the  food  which  the  animal  can  procure. 
Where  he  is  well  fed,  they  will  be  well  developed  ; 
where  food  is  scarce,  they  v^U  be  small.  In  a 
timbered  country  there  is  more  shelter  than  on  the 
plains,  the  grass  is  not  so  deeply  covered  with  snow 
in  winter,  and  consequently  food  is  more  plentiful 
at  that  time  of  year,  and  the  animal  thrives  better. 
You  always  find  heavier  deer  in  woodland  than  in 
an  open  country.  Early  in  the  fall  the  stags  gather 
large  herds  of  hinds  about  them  ;  about  the  end  of 
October  they  separate,  and  the  big  stags  wander  off 
alone  for  a  while,  and  then  later  on  join  in  with  the 
big  bands  of  hinds  and  small  stags.  During  the 
winter  they  run  in  great  numbers — it  is  not  un- 
usual to  find  herds  of  two  or  three  hundred  to- 
gether, and  I  have  seen,  I  believe,  as  many  as  a 
thousand  different  wapiti  within  a  week.     A  large 


A   COLORADO   SKETCH  49 

herd  of  these  grand  animals  is  a  magnificent  sight, 
and  one  not  soon  to  be  forgotten.  They  are  to  be 
killed  either  by  stalking  them  on  foot,  or  partially 
on  foot  and  partially  on  horseback,  or  by  running 
them  on  horseback  as  you  would  run  buffalo. 

Willie  broke  off  here,  for  Noel  the  Indian  was 
fast  asleep.  It  is  astonishing  how  these  men  can 
sleep  when  they  have  nothing  else  to  do,  and  how 
well  they  can  on  necessity  do  without  sleep  ;  and 
Willie  Whisper  also  began  to  look  as  if  bedtime 
was  near  at  hand.  The  fire  was  getting  low.  "  I 
like  that  sketch,"  I  said,  "  I  like  the  description  of 
scenery.  It  is  grand,  but  not  peaceful  and  com- 
forting like  your  woods.  And  I  like  the  natural 
history — not  too  much  slaughtering  of  my  fellow- 
creatures,  and  no  killing  just  for  killing's  sake  in  the 
story  either.  Man  must  eat  to  Hve  and  must  kill 
to  eat,  and  we  brethren  of  the  woods  seek  our  meat 
from  God.     But  I  wish  it  were  otherwise." 

"  So  do  I,"  he  answered  drowsily,  "  and  I  think 
I  could  prove  it,  but  you  are  sleepy  and  so  am  I, 
and  I  have  talked  enough  for  one  night,"  and  so 
wrapping  our  blankets  round  us  we  lay  down  to  rest. 

Provisions  were  getting  low.  I  had  not  looked 
for  a  long  delay  in  reaching  my  hunting  camp,  and 


SQ  CANADIAN   NIGHTS 

Willie  Whisper  was  but  scantily  supplied.  Of  tea 
and  sugar  we  had  enough,  but  we  were  short  of 
flour,  and  the  little  bit  of  fat  pork  was  getting 
lamentably  small.  So  the  next  day  was  spent  in 
foraging.  The  proceeds  of  the  chase  did  not 
amount  to  much — one  porcupine,  plenty  of  trout, 
and  some  cranberries — but  it  sufficed  for  present 
needs,  and  after  supper  Willie  said  : 

"  I  agree  with  all  you  said  last  night  about  killing 
for  the  sake  of  killing.  Though  the  hunting  in- 
stinct is  very  strong  in  me  I  have  never  killed  to 
waste,  and  I  don't  think  I  shall  offend  you  if  I  give 
you  another  hunting  yarn.  I  alluded  last  night  to 
wapiti.  I  have  hunted  them  in  every  way,  and  in 
every  place  in  the  woods,  among  the  mountains,  on 
the  plains,  stalked  them  on  foot,  stalked  them  on 
horseback,  and  run  them.  Shall  I  tell  you  about 
wapiti-running  on  the  plains  ?  " 

"  Good,"  said  I,  "  fire  away." 


WAPITI-RUNNING  ON  THE  PLAINS 

The  first  time  I  ever  saw  the  head  of  a  wapiti 
{Cervus  canadensis)  was  at  Chicago.  I  happened 
to  be  talking  one  day  with  General  Sheridan,  when 
a  magnificent  specimen  arrived  from  one  of  the 
frontier  forts  as  a  present  from  the  officer  in  com- 
mand there.  I  had  heard  of  these  animals,  but  had 
looked  upon  them  as  mythological  beasts.  I  had 
been  so  much  disappointed  in  America  in  my  search 
for  large  game,  had  heard  so  many  rumours  which 
turned  out  to  be  without  the  smallest  foundation 
in  fact,  and  had  listened  to  so  many  stories  of 
abundance  of  game  which  proved  to  be  entirely 
illusory — the  animals  existing  only  in  the  vivid 
imagination  of  the  story-tellers — that  I  had  begun 
seriously  to  doubt  whether  any  wapiti  existed  on 
the  continent.  The  sight,  however,  of  the  pair  of 
horns  reassured  me  considerably,  for  obviously 
where  one  wapiti  stag  was  to  be  found  there  was 
a  reasonable  chance  of  killing  others,  and  my  en- 
thusiasm rising  to  fever  heat  on  the  closer  inspection 
of  the  antlers,  nothing  would  satisfy  me  but  I  must 


52  CANADIAN   NIGHTS 

be  off  at  once  to  the  fort.    Accordingly  I  and  my 
companion  boarded  a  Western-bound  train  on  the 

comfortable  assurance  that  General  ,  a  man 

of  his  word,  had  promised  to  do  all  he  could  to 
help  me. 

It  would  be  useless  to  enter  into  any  descrip- 
tion of  the  journey.  The  comfort  of  the  Pullman 
cars,  the  discomfort  of  the  heat  and  dust,  the  occa- 
sional bands  of  buffalo,  the  herds  of  antelope,  the 
prairie  dogs,  the  vast  droves  of  Texan  cattle  and 
the  picturesque  cattle-boys  that  drive  them,  the 
long  dreary  stretches  of  prairie  where  the  melan- 
choly solitude  is  broken  only  by  occasional  little 
stations  at  which  the  train  stops — are  all  familiar 
to  everybody  who  has  crossed  the  plains,  and  have 
been  written  about  ad  nauseam.  Very  curious  are 
these  small  settlements,  some  of  them  consisting 
only  of  two  or  three  mud,  or  rather  adobe,  houses, 
or  of  a  few  wooden  shanties  and  a  pumping-engine 
to  supply  water ;  others  being  large  villages  or 
small  towns.  They  look  as  if  Providence  had  been 
carrying  a  box  of  toy  houses,  and  had  dropped  the 
lid  and  spilt  out  the  contents  on  the  earth.  The 
houses  have  all  come  down  right  end  uppermost, 
it  is  true,  but  otherwise  they  show  no  evidence  of 
design  :  they  are  scattered  about  in  every  conceiv- 


WAPITI-RUNNING   ON   THE   PLAINS     53 

able  direction,  dumped  down  anywhere,  appar- 
ently without  any  particular  motive  or  reason  for 
being  so  situated.  The  chief  peculiarity  noticeable 
about  these  little  settlements  and  their  inhabitants 
is  that  on  the  approach  of  a  train  everybody  rushes 
to  the  front  of  his  house  and  rings  an  enormous  bell. 
I  received  quite  an  erroneous  impression  from  this 
ceremony  the  first  time  I  crossed  the  plains.  I 
had  read  somewhere  that  the  Chinese  on  the  occa- 
sion of  an  eclipse  or  some  natural  phenomenon  of 
that  kind,  which  they  attribute  to  the  action  of 
a  malignant  being,  endeavour  to  drive  away  the 
evil  influence  by  ringing  bells,  beating  gongs,  and 
making  other  hideous  noises ;  and  I  thought  that 
the  unsophisticated  inhabitants  of  these  frontier 
towns,  not  having  become  accustomed  to  the 
passage  of  a  train,  looked  upon  it  as  some  huge, 
horrible,  and  dangerous  beast,  and  sought  to  drive 
it  away  by  employing  the  same  means  as  the 
Chinese.  I  found  out  afterwards,  however,  that 
the  object  of  the  bell-ringing  was  to  induce  travel- 
lers to  descend  and  partake  of  hash. 

At  one  of  these  lonely  little  stations  I  was  de- 
posited one  fine  evening  in  the  early  fall  just 
before  sundown.  For  a  few  moments  only  the  place 
was  all  alive  with  bustle  and  confusion.     The  train 


54  CANADIAN   NIGHTS 

represented  everything  that  was  civilised,  all  the 
luxuries  that  could  be  carried  in  a  train  were  to  be 
found  on  board  of  it,  the  people  were  all  clothed 
in  fashionable  dresses,  it  was  like  a  slice  cut  out  of 
one  of  the  Eastern  cities  set  down  bodily  in  the 
midst  of  a  perfect  wilderness.  In  a  few  seconds  it 
was  gone,  civilisation  vanished  with  it,  the  station 
relapsed  into  its  normal  condition  of  desolation, 
and  I  found  myself  almost  alone  in  the  heart  of  the 
desert. 

The  day  had  been  hot,  and  the  air  was  resonant 
with  the  noise  of  crickets  and  cicali.  The  almost 
level  prairie  stretched  out  around  me,  fading  away 
towards  the  east  in  interminable  distances,  while  in 
the  west  the  sun  was  just  sinking  behind  a  range 
of  low  sand-hills  and  bluffs.  The  air  was  still 
and  calm,  the  sky  perfectly  cloudless,  and  the 
setting  sun  cast  a  faint  delicate  rosy  hue  over 
the  sand  and  burnt  sun-scorched  herbage  of  the 
prairie,  giving  it  the  general  tint  and  appearance 
of  the  Egyptian  desert.  It  was  very  beautiful  but 
somewhat  melancholy,  and  I  confess  I  felt  rather 
blue  and  dismal  as  I  watched  the  train  vanishing 
in  the  distance ;  nor  were  my  spirits  roused  by 
learning  from  the  station-master  that  Buffalo  Bill 
and  Texas  Jack  had  left  the  fort  that  very  morning 


WAPITI-RUNNING   ON   THE   PLAINS     55 

on  a  hunting  expedition.  I  had  counted  upon  one 
or  both  of  those  famous  scouts  accompanying  me, 
for  General  Sheridan  had  with  characteristic  kind- 
ness written  to  the  officer  commanding  at  the 
fort,  requesting  him  to  give  me  any  assistance  in 
his  power,  and  if  possible  to  let  me  have  the 
valuable  services  of  Mr.  WiUiam  Cody,  otherwise 
Buffalo  Bill,  the  government  scout  at  the  fort ; 
and  I  began  to  inveigh  against  the  bad  luck  that 
had  arranged  that  he  should  go  out  hunting  the 
very  day  I  arrived.  However,  I  had  to  "  take  it 
all  back,"  for  just  as  I  was  stepping  into  the 
ambulance  wagon  that  was  waiting  to  take  us  to 
the  fort,  two  horsemen  appeared  in  sight,  gallop- 
ing towards  us,  and  the  station-master  sang  out, 
"  Say  !  hold  on  a  minute,  here  are  the  very  men 
you  want,  I  guess."  In  another  minute  or  two 
they  cantered  up,  swung  themselves  out  of  the 
saddle,  threw  their  bridles  over  a  post,  caught  up 
their  rifles,  and  stepped  on  to  the  platform.  I 
thought  I  had  never  seen  two  finer- looking  speci- 
mens of  humanity,  or  two  more  picturesque 
figures.  Both  were  tall,  well-built,  active-looking 
men,  with  singularly  handsome  features.  Bill  was 
dressed  in  a  pair  of  corduroys  tucked  into  his  high 
boots,  and  a  blue  flannel  shirt.     He  wore  a  broad- 


56  CANADIAN   NIGHTS 

brimmed  felt  hat,  or  sombrero,  and  had  a  white 
handkerchief  folded  like  a  little  shawl  loosely 
fastened  round  his  neck,  to  keep  off  the  fierce  rays 
of  the  afternoon  sun.  Jack's  costume  was  similar, 
with  the  exception  that  he  wore  moccasins,  and 
had  his  lower  limbs  encased  in  a  pair  of  comfort- 
ably greasy  deer-skin  trousers,  ornamented  with  a 
fringe  along  the  seams.  Round  his  waist  was  a 
belt  supporting  a  revolver,  two  butcher  knives,  and 
in  his  hand  he  carried  his  trusty  rifle  the  "  Widow." 
Jack,  tall  and  lithe,  with  light  brown  close-cropped 
hair,  clear  laughing  honest  blue  eyes,  and  a  soft 
and  winning  smile,  might  have  sat  as  a  model 
for  a  typical  modern  Anglo-Saxon — if  ethnologists 
will  excuse  the  term.  Bill  was  dark,  with  quick 
searching  eyes,  aquiline  nose,  and  delicately  cut 
features,  and  he  wore  his  hair  falling  in  long  ringlets 
over  his  shoulders,  in  true  Western  style.  As  he 
cantered  up,  with  his  flowing  locks  and  broad- 
brimmed  hat,  he  looked  like  a  picture  of  a  Cavalier 
of  olden  times.  Ah,  well !  it  is  years  ago  now 
since  the  day  I  first  shook  hands  with  Jack  and 
Bill,  and  many  changes  have  taken  place  since 
then.  At  that  time  neither  of  them  had  visited 
the  States,  nor  been  anywhere  east  of  the  Missis- 
sippi :     they   knew   scarcely   more    of   civilisation 


WAPITI-RUNNING   ON   THE   PLAINS     57 

and  the  life  of  great  cities  than  the  Indians  around 
them.  Afterwards  they  both  went  East  and  made 
money.  Cody  has,  I  believe,  settled  down  on  a 
ranch  somewhere  in  Wyoming,  and  John  Omo- 
hondro,  better  known  as  Texas  Jack,  has  gone  to 
other  and  better  hunting  grounds.  Peace  be  with 
him  ;  he  was  a  good  and  kind  friend  to  me,  a 
cheery  companion,  as  brave  as  a  lion,  as  gentle  as  a 
woman,  always  ready  for  anything,  always  willing 
to  work,  cutting  down  mountains  of  difficulties 
into  molehills,  always  in  good  humour,  never 
quarrelling — a  better  hunting  companion  than 
Jack  was  in  those  days,  or  a  more  reliable  friend, 
it  would  be  hard  to  find.  There  was  nothing  mean 
about  Jack  ;  he  was — to  use  one  of  his  own  Western 
phrases — a  real  white  man.  "  Well,"  says  Cody, 
after  the  ceremony  of  introduction  had  been  got 
through,  and  we  had  made  known  our  wishes  and 
aspirations,  "  I  guess  we  will  both  go  along  with 
you  gents,  if  you  like,  and  if  I  can  get  leave,  and 
I  don't  know  as  there  will  be  any  trouble  about 
that.  You  see  Jack  and  I  just  started  out  this 
morning  to  get  a  load  of  meat,  but  there  has  been 
considerable  of  a  fire  down  towards  the  forks,  and 
scared  all  the  game  off  ;  and  as  we  had  not  got 
no  stores  with  us  for  more  than  a  day  or  two,  we 


58  CANADIAN   NIGHTS 

concluded  to  come  right  back."  "  Oh  Lord,"  I 
said ;  ''  the  game  all  scared  off,  is  it  ?  what  an 
infernal  nuisance  !  it  does  not  look  a  very  cheerful 
country  to  ride  about  in  without  plenty  of  game 
to  'liven  one  up."  '*  Never  you  mind  about  deer 
and  elk,"  cried  Jack ;  "  you  have  no  call  to  worry 
about  that ;  we  will  find  game  enough  if  you  can 
hit  them;  you  think  the  prairie  don't  look  cheer- 
ful, eh  !  Well  it  does  seem  kind  of  dismal,  don't 
it,  this  time  of  year.  Ah  !  "  he  added  enthusi- 
astically, "  but  you  should  see  it  in  the  summer, 
when  the  grass  is  all  green,  and  the  flowers  is  all 
ablowing,  and  the  little  birdies  is  a  building  of 
their  nestles  and  boohooing  around,  and  the  deer 
are  that  fat  they  will  scarcely  trouble  to  get  out  of 
the  way ;  and  as  to  eating,  they  are  just  splendid, 
immense  !  I  tell  you  ;  ain't  they,  Bill  ?  "  "  Yes, 
sir,  you  bet  your  boots  they  are.  But  come  on. 
Jack ;  let's  fork  our  ponies  and  skin  out  for  the 
fort ;  we  don't  want  to  stop  here  all  night,  anyhow. 
Good  night,  gentlemen  ;  we  will  see  you  in  the 
morning  and  fix  that  hunt  all  right,  I  guess." 
And  so  Buffalo  Bill  and  Texas  Jack  ''  fork  their 
ponies  and  skin  out,"  while  we  bundle  ourselves 
into  the  wagon  and  rattle  off  as  fast  as  six 
seventeen    hands   high    mules    can    tear    to    the 


WAPITI-RUNNING   ON   THE   PLAINS     59 

fort,  where  we  were  most  kindly   and  hospitably 
received. 

Buffalo  Bill  and  Texas  Jack  were  as  fine 
specimens  of  their  race  and  class  as  could  anywhere 
be  found  ;  and  that  is  saying  a  good  deal,  for 
honest  hearts  and  stalwart  frames  and  handsome 
features  are  not  rare  among  the  pioneers  of  Western 
civilisation.  It  might  be  supposed  that  these 
hunters,  Indian-trackers,  cattle-boys,  and  miners, 
are  disagreeable  people  to  come  across.  That  is 
not  the  case  at  all.  There  are,  of  course,  some 
rough  characters,  regular  desperadoes,  among 
them,  and  they  occasionally  shoot  each  other 
pretty  freely  in  gambling  quarrels  and  drunken 
sprees ;  but  to  a  stranger  who  knows  how  to 
behave  himself  they  are,  as  far  as  my  experience 
goes,  most  civil  and  obliging.  If  a  man  is  civil  to 
them  they  will  be  civil  to  him,  and  if  he  does  not 
interfere  about  their  affairs  they  won't  bother 
about  his,  unless  he  wants  their  assistance,  and 
then  they  will  be  ready  and  willing  to  give  it.  The 
manly  sense  of  independence,  the  self-respect,  and 
that  feeling  of  respect  for  others  engendered  by 
it,  which  so  strongly  characterise  the  American 
people,  are  as  deeply  marked  and  have  as  good 
an  effect  among  the  nomads  of  the  West  as  in 


Go  CANADIAN   NIGHTS 

any  other  class  of  the  population.  Of  course  if  a 
man  gives  himself  airs  he  must  expect  to  pay  for 
it.  I  remember  rather  an  amusing  instance  of 
this.  I  had  engaged  a  hunter  and  guide,  a  first- 
rate  man,  to  accompany  a  friend  of  mine.  The 
day  before  they  were  to  start  the  guide  came  to 
me  and  said,  "  Now  look  here,  friend.  I  ain't 
agoing  to  back  out  of  this  bargain,  because  I  told 
you  Pd  go  ;  but  I  ain't  sweet  upon  the  job,  I  tell 
you.  I  never  come  across  a  chap  with  such  a  lot 
of  side  on  in  my  life,  and  I  don't  like  it.  However, 
I  said  I'd  go,  and  I'm  agoing ;  but  I  ain't  agoing 
at  the  price  I  told  you.  I  am  going  to  charge  him 
a  dollar  a  day  more."  And  so  my  friend  enjoyed 
his  expedition  in  blissful  ignorance  that  he  was 
paying  four  shillings  and  twopence  a  day  extra  for 
"  side." 

The  next  morning,  after  paying  some  visits 
and  making  some  preliminary  arrangements  for  a 
hunt,  I  wandered  off  a  little  distance  and  sat  down 
on  the  trunk  of  a  fallen  cottonwood  tree,  and  tried 
to  realise  that  I  was  in  the  middle  of  those  prairies 
that,  thanks  to  Captain  Mayne  Reid,  had  haunted 
my  boyish  dreams.  I  cannot  say  that  the  realisa- 
tion of  my  hopes  fulfilled  my  expectation.  I 
was  oppressed  with  the  vastness  of  the  country, 


WAPITI-RUNNING   ON   THE   PLAINS     6i 

the  stillness  and  the  boundlessness  of  the  plains 
seemed  to  press  like  a  weight  upon  my  spirits,  and 
I  was  not  sorry  to  get  back  into  the  bustle  and 
busy  life  of  the  fort.  After  a  while,  though,  when 
I  became  accustomed  to  the  plains,  the  feeling  of 
depression  of  spirits  which  was  at  first  occasioned 
by  the  monotony  and  quiet  colouring  of  every- 
thing faded  away,  and  the  limitlessness  of  the 
prairie  only  impressed  me  with  a  feeling  of  freedom, 
and  created  rather  an  exhilaration  of  spirits  than 
otherwise. 

It  was  difficult  in  those  days,  and  I  suppose 
it  is  80  now  in  most  places,  to  enjoy  much  hunting 
on  the  plains  without  the  assistance  of  the  military. 
That  assistance  was  never  wdthheld  if  it  could  be 
given  ;  for  among  no  class  of  people  in  any  country 
in  the  world  are  the  rites  of  hospitality  better  under- 
stood or  more  gracefully  administered  than  among 
the  officers  of  Uncle  Sam's  army.  I  always  found 
them  most  courteous,  kind,  and  obliging,  ready 
to  do  anything  in  their  power  to  help  a  stranger 
to  see  something  of  the  country  or  to  indulge  in 
the  pleasures  of  a  hunt.  I  had  no  great  difficulty 
therefore  in  obtaining  permission  to  attach  myself 
to  a  scouting  party  that  was  to  leave  the  fort  in  a 
short  time. 


6z  CANADIAN   NIGHTS 

The  next  two  or  three  days  were  spent  in 
making  preparations,  buying  stores,  &c.  I  thought 
the  days  interminable.  I  was  crazy  to  get  out  on 
the  plains  and  see  one  of  these  great  wapiti,  and 
it  appeared  to  me  that  everything  could  have  been 
ready  in  half  an  hour's  time.  However,  it  was 
no  use  hurrying  ;  one  has  to  be  philosophically 
patient  and  let  things  take  their  natural  course. 
There  is  a  regular  routine  to  be  observed  in  all 
these  cases.  At  some  places  it  takes  you  two  days 
to  fit  out,  at  others  three  ;  sometimes  you  may 
strike  a  man  accustomed  to  do  things  on  short 
notice,  and  able  to  get  everything  ready  in  two 
or  three  hours.  Then  there  are  endless  delays 
on  the  day  of  starting.  Something  is  sure  to  be 
forgotten  ;  girths  or  buckles  break ;  perhaps  one 
of  the  drivers  has  had  a  birthday,  and  is  suffering 
a  little  from  the  effects  of  it,  and  cannot  be  induced 
to  pull  himself  together  and  get  started  at  all.  In 
fact,  you  must  make  up  your  mind  to  be  quite 
content  if  the  first  day's  march  consists  only  of  a 
few  miles,  just  enough  to  get  beyond  the  radius 
of  the  last  whisky  shop,  so  as  to  be  certain  of 
making  a  clear,  fair-and-square  move  on  the 
succeeding  day. 

We    got    off    pretty   well,    sent     the   wagons. 


WAPITI-RUNNING   ON   THE   PLAINS     63 

escort,  tents,  and  things  away  shortly  after  noon, 
and  started  ourselves  a  couple  of  hours  later.  It 
was  with  a  feeling  almost  of  exultation  that  I  at 
last  found  myself  riding  on  the  boundless  prairie, 
the  tall  flagstaff,  and  the  wooden  houses  of  the 
fort  fading  in  the  distance,  and  before  me  nothing 
but  the  illimitable  wilderness.  After  a  short 
gallop,  we  overtook  the  outfit  on  the  banks  of  the 
Platte,  an  extraordinary  river,  which  consists  at 
all  seasons,  except  when  in  full  flood,  of  a  broad 
band  of  shifting,  soft,  and  dangerous  sand,  with 
a  little  water  trickling  about  in  it.  It  is  in  some 
places  miles  in  breadth.  There  was  a  kind  of 
bridge,  composed  of  numerous  holes,  with  a  few 
wattles  and  planks  and  trunks  of  rotten  trees 
thrown  across  them,  the  whole  structure  being 
supported  on  rickety  trestles ;  but  it  was  in  such 
a  dangerous  condition  that  we  did  not  attempt  to 
cross  it,  but  preferred  to  ford  the  river,  though 
the  bed  of  it  was  strewn  with  wheels,  axles,  and 
fragments  of  wagons,  a  sight  not  very  encouraging 
to  the  traveller.  However,  by  dint  of  much  hard 
swearing  we  got  across,  travelled  a  few  miles  on 
the  other  side,  and  camped  close  to  the  source  of 
a  little  stream.  Next  morning  shortly  after  day- 
light two  or  three  of  us  started  on  ahead  on  the 


64  CANADIAN   NIGHTS 

route  that  the  wagons  were  to  follow,  and  an 
event  occurred — we  saw  our  first  wapiti.  Almost 
immediately  after  leavmg  camp  I  spied  two  or 
three  gigantic  objects,  with  horns  like  branching 
trees,  surveying  us  from  a  sand-hill  at  a  little 
distance.  I  was  nearly  frightened  to  death  at  the 
sight,  they  looked  so  enormous  in  the  dim  light, 
and  although  I  had  absolutely  seen  the  head  of  an 
elk  at  Chicago,  I  still  had  lingering  doubts  as  to 
their  existence.  We  tried  to  ride  round  them, 
but  it  was  no  use  :  they  had  seen  the  camp,  and 
made  off  before  we  could  get  anywhere  within 
range.  We  travelled  all  the  rest  of  that  day 
without  seeing  anything  more  :  it  was  intensely 
hot,  and  altogether  the  journey  was  not  a  very 
pleasant  one.  The  heat  was  most  oppressive, 
although  it  was  late  in  October,  for  there  was  not 
a  breath  of  wind,  and  the  treeless  prairie  does  not 
afford  a  particle  of  shade  of  any  kind ;  being  quite 
a  green  hand  on  the  prairies,  I  was  afraid  to  wander 
any  distance  from  the  wagons,  lest  I  might  lose 
myself ;  and  I  found  riding  behind  a  wagon  all 
day  in  the  broiling  sun  on  a  rough-paced  broncho 
so  tiresome  that  I  was  well  pleased  when  the 
camping-place  for  the  night  hove  in  sight. 
The  country  we  traversed  is  peculiar ;    the  soil 


WAPITI-RUNNING   ON   THE   PLAINS     65 

is  of  light  sand,  and  the  whole  region  is  a  vast  series 
of  sand-heaps.  It  looks  as  if  the  ocean  in  a  violent 
gale — the  height  of  the  waves  being  exaggerated  to 
some  fifty  or  a  hundred  feet — had  suddenly  been 
arrested,  solidified,  and  turned  into  sand.  There 
are  occasional  level  places,  low  bottoms,  in  which 
the  water  supplied  by  the  winter  snows  and  rains 
collects  and  remains  some  time  after  the  great  heats 
and  droughts  of  summer  have  set  in.  These  places 
are  covered  with  a  rank  vegetation  of  tall  grass,  in 
which  it  is  sometimes  very  difficult  to  force  one's 
way  on  horseback ;  but  generally  the  surface  of 
the  country  is  sand,  either  devoid  of  vegetation  or 
covered  with  patches  of  coarse  grass  ;  and  here  and 
there  are  level  tracts  clothed  with  short,  succulent, 
curling  buffalo-grass.  The  wind  has  a  great  effect 
on  the  soft  surface  of  the  sand,  and  most  of  the  hills 
have  one  side  blown  or  scooped  out,  which  makes 
the  country  somewhat  dangerous  to  ride  over,  for 
one  is  apt,  in  galloping  after  some  animal,  to  come 
suddenly  upon  a  perpendicular  cliff  twenty  or  thirty 
feet  high,  the  descent  down  which  would  result  in 
broken  bones  for  man  and  horse.  The  native 
horses  are  pretty  well  accustomed  to  this  pecu- 
liarity of  the  country,  and  will  stop  suddenly,  a 
proceeding  which,   though  excellent   and  wise  as 


66  CANADIAN   NIGHTS 

regards  themselves,  is  apt  to  result  in  the  discom- 
fiture of  the  rider  if  he  is  new  to  the  plains,  and  to 
cause  him  to  describe  a  graceful  parabola  in  the  air, 
and  fall  down  head  foremost  in  the  soft  substance 
of  the  sand  beneath.  It  is  the  easiest  thing  in  the 
world  to  lose  yourself  in  this  broken  sand-heapy 
country,  for  you  will  lose  sight  of  the  wagons  when 
not  a  hundred  yards  from  them,  and  not  see  them 
until  you  are  right  on  the  top  of  them  again.  There 
is  of  course  no  kind  of  road  or  track  of  any  sort ; 
you  simply  travel  in  the  direction  which  you  wish  to 
go,  choosing  the  best  line  of  country  you  can  find. 

We  camped  that  night  on  Little  Sandy  Creek, 
the  south  branch  of  the  east  fork  of  the  western 
arm  of  one  of  the  larger  tributaries  of  the  North 
Platte.  It  was  on  the  next  day's  march  that  the 
first  elk  was  killed.  I  was  riding  alone  a  little  to 
the  left  of  the  wagons,  much  alarmed  at  not  having 
them  constantly  in  view,  but  still  so  anxious  to  get 
a  shot  that  I  ventured  to  keep  off  a  little  way.  I 
had  adopted  by  this  time  the  manners  and  cus- 
toms of  the  native  hunter,  which  consist  in  going 
up  cautiously  to  the  crest  of  a  sand-hill,  looking 
over  inch  by  inch,  and  occasionally  going  to  the 
top  of  the  highest  point  in  the  neighbourhood  and 
taking  a  good  survey  round  with  a  pair  of  field- 


WAPITI-RUNNING   ON   THE   PLAINS     e^ 

glasses.  At  last  I  was  rewarded.  Quietly  craning 
my  head  over  a  sand-ridge,  I  saw  lying  at  the  bottom, 
not  more  than  a  couple  of  hundred  yards  from  me, 
what  looked  at  first  like  a  great  tangled  mass  of  dry 
white  sticks.  It  turned  out  to  be  the  heads  of  three 
wapiti  stags  lying  down  close  together.  I  man- 
aged without  much  difficulty  to  get  a  little  nearer 
to  them,  left  my  horse,  crawled  up  to  the  brow  of 
the  nearest  ridge,  got  a  fine  shot,  and  fired.  I  hate 
taking  a  lying  shot,  and  it  would  have  been  better 
in  this  case  if  I  had  roused  the  animals  up ;  how- 
ever, I  fired  at  one  as  he  lay,  and  struck  him,  but 
not  fatally,  and  they  all  got  up  and  made  off. 
Noticing  that  one  was  wounded,  I  jumped  on  my 
horse  and  followed  him.  I  speedily  came  up  to 
him,  for  he  was  severely  hit,  dismounted,  fired 
another  shot,  and  laid  him  on  the  sand.  He  was 
not  a  very  large  stag,  in  fact  he  had  a  small  head, 
but  I  thought  him  the  most  magnificent  animal 
I  had  ever  seen  in  my  life.  Fortunately  for  me, 
Buffalo  Bill,  who  heard  the  shots  and  saw  the 
wapiti  making  off,  followed  them  and  came  to  my 
assistance,  helped  me  to  cut  him  up,  and  after 
taking  some  meat  on  our  saddles,  brought  me  safely 
and  speedily  back  to  the  wagons.  The  river  we 
camped  on  is  a  good-sized  stream.     It  flows  through 


68  CANADIAN   NIGHTS 

a  generally  flat  country,  but  partially  composed,  as 
I  have  already  said,  of  sand-hills  and  steep  bluffs. 
Its  course  is  the  most  peculiar  I  have  ever  seen  in 
any  river ;  it  twists  and  twines  in  a  most  miraculous 
manner,  forming  loops  and  figures  of  eight,  and 
every  kind  of  geometrical  figure  that  can  be  made 
by  curves.  Two  bends  of  the  river  will  approach 
each  other  till  they  are  separated  only  by  a  little  neck 
of  land  a  few  yards  in  width,  and  then  go  away  for 
ever  so  far,  sweeping  back  again  in  such  a  manner 
that  I  should  think  a  man  in  a  canoe  might  have  to 
travel  twenty  miles  to  accomplish  a  distance  of 
perhaps  two  or  three  miles  in  a  straight  line 
by  land. 

Where  the  stream  has  cut  through  high  sand- 
hills or  bluffs  the  banks  are  of  course  precipitous, 
almost  perpendicular,  but  as  a  general  rule  there  is 
a  margin  some  hundred  yards  or  so  in  width  be- 
tween the  edge  of  the  stream  and  the  high  steep 
hills  which  form  the  banks  of  the  river.  Through 
these  hills,  composed  of  loose  sand  and  other  soft 
materials,  winter  rains  have  worn  deep  gullies,  large 
enough  to  be  termed  canons,  precipitous  valleys 
leading  up  from  the  river,  at  right  angles  to  its 
general  course,  to  the  level  of  the  plain,  and  from 
these  valleys  other  and  smaller  canons  branch  off 


WAPITI-RUNNING   ON   THE   PLAINS     69 

in  all  directions,  forming  a  labyrinth  of  steep  pre- 
cipitous gullies. 

These  canons,  and  indeed  every  crack  and 
cranny  below  the  level  of  the  prairie,  are  thickly 
timbered  w^ith  cypress  ;  in  other  words,  the  natural 
wood  grows  everywhere  where  it  is  not  subjected 
to  the  continually  recurring  prairie  fires  which 
desolate  the  region,  and  wherever  it  is  sheltered 
from  the  cutting  blast  of  wintry  winds,  almost  as 
destructive  in  their  effects  as  fire.  The  river  is 
fordable  in  most  places  as  far  as  depth  of  water  is 
concerned,  but  the  bottom  is  very  treacherous,  con- 
sisting generally  of  soft  shifting  quicksand.  We 
pitched  our  camp  in  a  nice  shelcered  situation,  not 
far  from  the  head  of  one  of  the  canons  leading  down 
to  the  river,  near  enough  to  the  stream  to  be  able 
to  water  our  horses  without  inconvenience,  and 
sufficiently  close  to  the  plain  to  get  a  good  look  out 
over  the  surrounding  country  without  having  to 
go  too  far. 

It  was  a  pleasant  and  convenient  camp,  and  we 
should  have  been  very  comfortable  if  we  had  not 
suffered  so  much  from  cold  at  night ;  but  unfor- 
tunately for  us  summer  turned  suddenly  into  winter, 
a  violent  snowstorm  came  on,  and  for  a  few  days 
after  it  we  felt  the  cold  very  severely.    We  had 


70  CANADIAN   NIGHTS 

plenty  of  buffalo  rugs  and  blankets,  it  is  true,  but 
there  is  a  limit  to  the  number  of  blankets  that  are 
useful ;  a  dozen  will  not  keep  a  man  any  warmer 
than  half  a  dozen,  or  half  a  dozen  than  two  or  three. 
I  do  not  like  sleeping  in  great  cold ;  it  necessitates 
lying  so  still.  The  only  chance  is  to  get  into  bed, 
roll  yourself  well  up  in  your  blankets  and  buffalo 
robes  while  the  tent  is  warm,  see  that  there  is  no 
cranny  or  hole  anywhere  by  which  the  air  can  pene- 
trate, and  then  lie  perfectly  quiet.  You  will  experi- 
ence a  most  oppressive  and  inconvenient  amount 
of  heat  at  first,  which  it  is  very  difficult  to  put  up 
with,  for  it  is  almost  impossible  to  resist  the 
desire  to  kick  off  the  clothes  and  get  cool,  but  the 
temptation  must  be  resisted,  and  you  must  lie  per- 
fectly still — even  if  you  boil — otherwise  your  chance 
of  a  comfortable  night  is  gone.  If  you  succeed  in 
going  to  sleep,  you  will  find,  when  you  wake  after 
three  or  four  hours,  that  though  the  cold  is  intense 
your  body  still  contains  a  considerable  amount 
of  caloric  ;  you  must  then  pull  the  blankets  com- 
pletely over  your  head,  just  leaving  a  little  hole 
through  which  to  obtain  a  scanty  supply  of  fresh 
air,  and  remain  in  that  position  till  you  get  up  in 
the  morning.  It  makes  an  enormous  difference  to 
your  bodily  heat  having  your  head  inside  the  blan- 


WAPITI-RUNNING   ON   THE   PLAINS     71 

kets,  but  it  is  not  pleasant.  In  the  morning  you 
will  find  your  air-hole  encrusted  with  a  thick  coat- 
ing of  ice,  and  your  body  by  that  time  thoroughly 
cold  and  stiif,  from  lying  so  long  in  one  position. 
However,  that  is  one  of  the  discomforts  of  hunting 
that  has  to  be  put  up  with. 

We  scoured  the  country  for  the  first  couple  of 
days  in  vain,  seeing  nothing,  not  even  a  fresh  sign. 
On  the  third  afternoon  we — that  is,  myself  and  a 
friend  and  Buffalo  Bill — were  riding  along,  some- 
what dispirited,  a  little  in  the  rear  of  Texas  Jack, 
who  had  gone  on  ahead  and  had  disappeared  round 
a  hill.  Presently  we  caught  sight  of  him  again  on 
a  little  bluff  at  some  distance  from  us.  He  had 
dismounted,  and  was  running  round  and  round  on 
all  fours,  making  such  extraordinary  antics  that  I 
imagined  he  had  gone  suddenly  insane,  till  Buffalo 
Bill  explained  that  he  was  merely  indicating  to  us 
in  the  language  of  the  plain  that  there  was  some 
wapiti  in  sight  and  pretty  near.  So  we  approached 
him  very  cautiously,  and  looking  over  the  edge  of 
the  bluff  saw  a  sight  which  I  shall  never  forget — 
a  herd  of  at  least  120  or  130  wapiti  on  the  little 
plain  below  close  to  the  edge  of  the  river.  They 
looked  magnificent,  so  many  of  these  huge  deer  to- 
gether.    There  were  not  many  good  heads  among 


72  CANADIAN   NIGHTS 

them,  however,  the  herd  consisting  chiefly  of 
hinds  and  young  stags.  They  were  in  such  a 
position  that  we  could  not  make  a  good  stalk  upon 
them,  and  as  it  was  getting  late  in  the  afternoon 
we  determined  to  try  and  drive  them,  and  so,  after 
posting  Jack  and  my  friend  in  two  favourable  posi- 
tions, Buffalo  Bill  and  I  went  round  to  try  and 
creep  as  near  the  wapiti  as  we  could.  I  did  get 
two  or  three  unfavourable  shots,  and  missed,  but 
the  other  two  men  were  more  fortunate,  for  they 
shot  three  elk  out  of  the  herd  as  they  ran  by. 

Next  morning,  a  little  before  sunrise,  I  was 
awaked  as  usual  by  hearing  scratch,  scratch,  against 
the  canvas  of  my  tent  door.  "  Come  in,"  I  said, 
with  a  sleepy  and  somewhat  sulky  voice  at  being 
disturbed,  for  I  could  feel  by  the  stiffened  and 
frozen  condition  of  the  blankets  about  my  mouth 
that  it  was  a  very  cold  morning,  and  I  was  still 
tolerably  warm.  My  ''  come  in  "  was  answered  by 
the  appearance  of  Jack's  jolly  cheerful  face  as  he 
undid  the  strings  that  tied  the  tent  door,  and  came 
in,  rubbing  his  hands  and  stamping  his  feet. 
"  Good  morning,"  says  Jack  ;  "  it's  about  time  to 
get  up,  it's  a  fine  large  morning,  and  going  to  be 
a  great  day  for  hunting."  ''  All  right.  Jack,  I  will 
be  up  in  a  minute.     In  the  meantime  there  is  the 


WAPITI-RUNNING   ON   THE   PLAINS     73 

pannikin,  and  there  is  the  keg."  Jack,  like  most 
prairie  men,  invariably  introduced  himself  to  the  Sun- 
god  with  a  copious  libation  of  whisky.  To  take  a  big 
drink  of  raw  whisky  in  the  morning,  and  to  touch 
nothing  more  during  the  rest  of  the  day,  appears 
to  me  a  most  extraordinary  perversion  of  principle. 
However,  it  is  a  part  of  the  manners  and  customs 
of  the  country,  and  may  be  adapted  to  that  peculiar 
region.  I  have  often  tried  to  acquire  the  habit, 
but  have  never  succeeded.  It  is  true  that  to  take 
one  drink  of  whisky  in  the  morning  induces  modi- 
fied intoxication  for  the  whole  of  the  day,  and  it  is 
therefore  an  economical  habit ;  but  it  makes  a  man 
so  unpleasantly  drunk  that  he  is  apt  to  become  a 
nuisance  to  himself  and  a  terror  to  his  friends. 
After  Jack  had  tossed  off  his  tot  of  whisky  with  the 
customary  salutation,  "  How,"  to  which  we  replied 
with  the  polite  rejoinder, "Drink  hearty," we  crawled 
out  of  our  blankets  and  began  to  dress  ourselves ; 
that  is  to  say,  to  undress  ourselves,  for  we  slept 
with  more  clothes  on  than  we  wore  in  the  daytime  ; 
and  then,  having  taken  our  drams  in  the  shape  of 
coffee,  and  gone  through  the  slight  ceremonial  that 
answers  to  the  getting-up  of  civilised  life,  we  turned 
out,  watered  our  horses,  and  started,  accompanied 
by  the  captain  in  command  of  the  scouting  party. 


74  CANADIAN   NIGHTS 

The  captain,  however,  had  a  mishap,  which  neces- 
sitated his  returning  to  camp,  for  in  crossing  a 
stream  his  horse  took  fright,  reared,  and  fell  back 
in  the  water.  The  result  was  that  on  emerging 
from  the  river  the  gallant  captain  took  upon  himself 
the  appearance  of  a  knight  of  old  clad  in  a  complete 
and  glittering  armour  of  ice.  In  a  few  moments 
his  clothes  were  frozen  and  stiff  as  a  board,  and  he 
had  to  gallop  home,  get  himself  wrapped  up  in 
blankets,  and  the  circulation  restored  by  external 
friction  and  internal  applications  of  hot  whisky 
and  water. 

We  rode  for  a  long  time,  keeping  a  general 
direction  down  stream,  but  on  the  high  ground  on 
the  banks  of  the  river,  without  seeing  anything  or 
a  sign  of  anything. 

About  noon  I  at  last  caught  a  glimpse  of  some 
objects  a  long  way  off,  on  the  side  of  a  steep  bluff. 
It  is  very  hard  to  take  a  good  view  of  a  distant  object 
on  a  cold  winter's  day  from  the  top  of  an  exposed 
hill,  with  the  wind  blowing  through  and  through 
one,  and  one's  eyes  watering  and  one's  benumbed 
hands  shaking  the  glasses  in  a  most  inconvenient 
manner.  And  we  were  unable  for  some  time  to 
determine  the  nature  of  the  animals,  but  at  length 
made  out  that  they  were  elk,  and  not  what  he  feared 


WAPITI-RUNNING   ON   THE   PLAINS     75 

at  first  they  might  be,  Indians.  As  soon  as  we  had 
made  the  joyful  discovery  we  mounted  our  horses, 
and  galloped  off,  making  a  long  circuit  down  wind, 
so  as  to  come  upon  the  game  from  the  proper  direc- 
tion. Jack's  instinct  as  a  hunter  stood  us  in  good 
stead  on  this  occasion.  He  brought  us  round 
beautifully  to  the  exact  spot  where  the  deer  lay, 
which  was  an  exceedingly  difficult  thing  to  do, 
considering  that  when  we  first  saw  them  they  were 
four  or  five  miles  off,  and  were  lying  on  a  sand-hill 
exactly  like  hundreds  and  thousands  of  other  sand- 
hills that  surrounded  us  in  every  direction.  There 
was  not  even  the  slightest  landmark  to  point  out 
the  position  of  the  elk,  and  having  once  got  on  our 
horses  we  never  saw  them  till  Jack  brought  us 
within  a  few  hundred  yards  of  the  herd. 

I  had  no  idea  where  we  were,  when  Jack  said, 
"  Now  be  mighty  careful  in  going  up  this  hill,  and 
keep  your  eyes  skinned  :  we  ought  to  be  able  to  see 
elk  from  the  top."  Accordingly  we  rode  our  horses 
up  inch  by  inch,  stooping  down  on  their  necks 
whenever  we  moved,  and  halting  every  two  or  three 
steps,  and  gradually  raising  our  heads,  so  as  to  be 
sure  of  catching  sight  of  the  game  before  they  saw 
us.  When  we  discovered  the  deer,  we  found  they 
were  lying  on  the  opposite  hill-side,  out  of  shot. 


j6  CANADIAN   NIGHTS 

and  we  had  to  make  another  detour  in  order  to  get 
closer  up ;  and  finally,  having  reached  a  place 
from  whence  we  expected  to  be  within  easy  range, 
we  dismounted,  gave  our  horses  in  charge  to  two 
soldiers  who  had  accompanied  us,  and  prepared  to 
make  a  start  on  foot.  It  was  not  pleasant  ground 
for  crawling,  covered  as  it  was  in  patches  with 
dwarf  cacti,  horrible  little  vegetable  nuisances 
about  the  size  of  a  cricket  ball,  covered  with  spikes 
that  penetrate  through  moccasins  into  the  soles  of 
your  feet,  and  fill  your  hands  and  knees  till  they 
look  like  pincushions.  They  go  in  easily  enough, 
but  being  barbed  at  the  end,  they  won't  come  out 
again.  They  are  a  great  trouble  to  dogs.  I  had  a 
collie  with  me  that  became  so  disgusted  with  these 
cacti,  that  if  he  found  himself  among  patches  of 
them,  he  would  howl  and  yell  with  terror  before  he 
was  hurt  at  all.  They  are  very  detrimental  also  to 
the  human  hunter,  but  of  course  it  is  better  to  be 
as  covered  with  prickles  as  is  the  fretful  porcupine 
than  to  miss  a  chance  at  a  big  stag  ;  and  so,  in  spite 
of  cacti,  we  crawled  on  our  hands  and  knees,  and 
after  a  while  flat  upon  our  waistcoats,  till  we  got 
to  the  crest  of  the  hill,  and  there  found  ourselves 
within  two  hundred  yards  of  the  game.  We  could 
not  tell  how  large  the  herd  was,  for  not  more  than 


WAPITI-RUNNING   ON   THE   PLAINS     77 

twenty  wapiti  were  in  sight.  Having  mutually- 
settled  what  we  were  to  do,  in  a  few  hurried  whis- 
pers, we  selected  each  man  his  deer,  fired  all  to- 
gether, and  loaded  and  fired  again  as  fast  as  we 
could.  Wapiti  are  so  stupid  that  when  they  do 
not  get  your  wind,  or  see  you,  they  will  bunch  up 
together  and  stand,  poor  things,  some  little  time  in 
a  state  of  complete  terror,  uncertain  which  way  to 
run  or  what  to  do,  and  we  got  several  shots  into 
them  before  they  started,  and  when  at  length  they 
did  set  off  they  went  in  such  a  direction  that  we 
were  able  to  cut  them  off  again  by  running  across 
at  an  angle.  We  did  so,  and,  making  another  care- 
ful stalk  upon  them,  found  them  all  gathered  to- 
gether, looking  about  in  all  directions,  and  quite 
bewildered  at  being  unable  to  see  or  smell  the 
danger  to  which  they  were  exposed.  Signalling 
our  horses  to  come  up,  we  got  three  or  four  more 
shots  at  the  elk  before  they  made  up  their  minds  to 
start,  and  when  at  last  they  did  get  under  way,  we 
rushed  to  meet  the  horses,  threw  ourselves  into  the 
saddle,  and  started  full  gallop  after  them. 

Fortune  again  befriended  us,  for  the  deer  ran 
round  a  steep  bluff,  and,  by  taking  the  other  side  of 
the  hill,  we  succeeded  in  cutting  them  off  again, 
and  rode  in  right  on  the  top  of  the  herd,  yelling  and 


78  CANADIAN   NIGHTS 

shouting  to  frighten  them.  In  running  Wapiti 
on  horseback,  the  great  thing  is  to  get  among  them 
suddenly  at  great  speed,  and  to  scare  them  as  much 
as  possible.  If  you  succeed  in  doing  that,  they  get 
winded,  and  with  a  good  horse  you  will  be  able  to 
keep  up  with  them  for  some  little  distance ;  but  if 
you  let  them  get  started  gradually  at  their  own 
pace,  you  have  no  more  chance  of  coming  up  with 
them  than  with  the  man  in  the  moon.  However, 
this  time  we  charged  in  among  the  herd,  and  kept 
up  with  them  a  long  way.  What  became  of  the 
others  I  don't  know,  for  I  was  too  fully  occupied 
with  myself  to  take  any  notice  of  them.  I  rode  in 
upon  fifty  or  sixty  of  the  huge  beasts,  kept  my  horse 
galloping  right  along  with  them,  and  loaded  and 
fired  as  fast  as  I  could,  occasionally  rolling  over  a 
deer.  Presently  I  singled  out  a  big  stag,  the  best 
I  could  see,  and  devoted  myself  to  him.  With  the 
usual  cowardice  of  his  sex,  he  thrust  himself  in 
among  the  hinds,  and  I  had  great  difficulty  in  get- 
ting at  him  at  all.  Finally,  I  got  a  good  broadside 
shot  at  him,  but  missed,  for  it  is  not  an  easy  thing 
to  hit  a  deer  at  full  gallop  with  your  own  horse  at 
full  gallop  also  ;  in  fact  it  is  about  as  hard  a  thing 
to  do  as  a  man  can  attempt  in  the  way  of  shooting, 
particularly  as,  owing  to  the  peculiarly  dangerous 


WAPITI-RUNNING   ON   THE   PLAINS     79 

nature  of  the  ground,  a  man  has  to  keep  his  eyes 
open,  and  cannot  devote  his  entire  attention  to  the 
animal  he  is  pursuing,  or  even  to  his  own  horse. 
However,  I  stuck  to  my  deer,  though  he  doubled 
and  turned  in  all  directions,  and  at  last  by  a  lucky 
shot  rolled  him  over  like  a  rabbit,  a  fact  which  I 
announced  by  a  yell  which  I  should  think  must  have 
been  heard  in  settlements. 

As  soon  as  I  had  done  for  him,  I  took  after 
the  rest  of  the  herd,  or  rather  the  largest  portion 
of  the  herd,  for  the  main  body  of  deer  had  broken 
up  into  several  parties,  and  followed  a  little  bunch 
of  perhaps  twenty  or  thirty,  loading  and  firing, 
and  every  now  and  then  bowling  over  a  wapiti. 
I  went  on  till  my  rifle  fell  from  my  hands  through 
sheer  exhaustion,  and  stuck  in  the  sand,  muzzle 
downwards.  That  of  course  stopped  my  wild 
career.  Then  I  got  off  my  horse,  which  was 
completely  blown  and  stood  with  his  legs  wide 
apart,  his  nostrils  quivering,  his  flanks  heaving, 
pouring  with  sweat,  and  loosened  his  girths.  I 
felt  in  pretty  much  the  same  condition,  for  it  is 
hard  work  running  elk  on  horseback ;  so,  having 
first  extracted  my  rifle  from  its  position  in  the 
sand,  I  led  my  horse  slowly  up  to  the  top  of  a 
sand-hill,  turned  his  head  to  the  fresh  vivifying 


8o  CANADIAN   NIGHTS 

wind,  and  sat  down.  I  had  not  the  remotest  idea 
of  where  I  was,  how  long  I  had  been  running  the 
elk,  how  many  I  had  killed,  or  anything  else ;  the 
excitement  I  had  been  in  for  the  last  half-hour  or 
so  was  so  great  that  I  felt  quite  bewildered,  and 
scarcely  knew  what  had  happened.  It  was  natural 
that  I  should  not  know  where  I  was,  for  the  oldest 
hand  will  get  turned  round  after  running  even 
buffalo  on  the  prairie ;  and  elk  are  much  worse 
than  buffalo,  for  the  latter  will  generally  run 
tolerably  straight,  but  the  former  go  in  circles, 
and  double,  and  turn  back  on  their  tracks,  and  go 
in  any  direction  it  suits  them.  I  was  utterly  and 
completely  lost  as  far  as  finding  my  way  back  to 
camp  was  concerned,  and  I  began  all  at  once  to 
feel  a  sense  of  dismalness  creep  over  me.  A  sudden 
reaction  set  in  after  the  great  excitement  I  had 
enjoyed.  Only  a  few  seconds  before  I  had  been 
careering  at  full  gallop  over  the  prairie,  shouting 
from  sheer  exuberance  of  spirits,  every  nerve  in  a 
state  of  intense  excitation,  the  blood  coursing 
madly  through  every  artery  and  vein,  every  muscle 
and  sinew  strained  to  the  uttermost,  bestriding  an 
animal  in  an  equal  state  of  excitement,  and  pursu- 
ing a  herd  of  flying  creatures,  all  instinct  with  Hfe 
and  violent  movement.      In  a   second   it  was  all 


WAPITI-RUNNING  ON  THE  PLAINS     8i 

gone.  Like  a  flash  the  scene  changed.  The 
wapiti  disappeared  as  if  by  magic.  There  was 
not  a  living  creature  of  any  kind  to  be  seen,  and 
the  oppressive  silence  was  unbroken  by  the  faintest 
sound.  I  looked  all  around  the  horizon ;  not  a 
sign  of  life ;  everything  seemed  dull,  dead,  quiet, 
unutterably  sad  and  melancholy.  The  change 
was  very  strange,  the  revulsion  of  feeling  very 
violent  and  not  agreeable.  I  experienced  a  most 
extraordinary  feeling  of  loneliness,  and  so  having 
stopped  a  few  minutes  to  let  my  horse  get  his 
wind,  and  to  recover  my  faculties  a  little,  I  got 
on  my  exhausted  steed,  cleaned  the  sand  out  of 
my  rifle,  slowly  rode  up  to  the  top  of  the  highest 
sand-hill  in  the  neighbourhood,  and  there  sat 
down  again  to  look  about  me.  I  dare  say  the 
reader  will  ask,  "  Why  did  not  you  take  your  back 
track,  and  so  find  your  way  ?  "  I  should  have 
tried  that  of  course  in  time,  but  it  is  not  an  easy 
matter  to  follow  one's  footmarks  when  the  whole 
country  is  ploughed  up  and  tracked  over  with  the 
feet  of  flying  animals,  and  I  had  in  all  probability 
been  describing  curves,  crossing  my  trail  many 
times  ;  so  I  sat  me  down  on  the  top  of  my  sand- 
hill and  waited. 

After  what  seemed  to  me  an  intolerable  time, 


82  CANADIAN   NIGHTS 

probably  nearly  half  an  hour,  I  saw,  in  the  distance, 
a  little  black  spot  crawling  up  a  high  sand-hill  and 
remaining  stationary  at  the  top,  and  by  the  aid 
of  my  glass  I  made  out  a  man  and  a  horse.  The 
man  and  horse  remained  where  they  were ;  I 
also  did  not  stir ;  and  in  a  few  minutes  more  I 
had  the  pleasure  of  seeing  in  another  direction 
another  man  and  horse  climbing  to  the  top  of  a 
sand-hill.  I  felt  sure  they  were  my  friends,  for 
we  had  always  settled  among  ourselves  that  if  we 
got  separated  in  running  elk  or  buffalo,  or  any- 
thing, each  man  should  get  to  the  top  of  the 
highest  point  he  could  find,  wait  there  some  little 
time,  and  in  this  way  we  should  be  sure  to  get 
together  again  ;  and  so  after  fixing  well  in  my  eye 
the  position  of  the  first  man  I  had  seen,  I  got  on 
my  horse  and  started  in  that  direction.  After  a 
bit  I  rode  up  another  high  sand-hill  to  take  an 
observation,  and  finding  my  friend  still  in  the 
same  place,  continued  my  way  towards  him.  In 
about  an  hour  we  had  all  got  together  again,  and 
after  briefly  giving  each  other  an  account  of  our 
success,  we  struck  out  for  the  end  of  the  track 
where  I  had  left  my  stag,  and  took  the  trail  back. 
Such  a  scene  of  slaughter  I  had  never  viewed 
before ;    for  two  or  three  miles  the  dead  elk  lay 


WAPITI-RUNNING   ON   THE   PLAINS    83 

thick  upon  the  ground ;  it  was  like  a  small  battle- 
field ;  a  case  of  prairie  murder,  as  the  captain 
said.  By  Jove,  how  we  did  work  that  afternoon, 
gralloching  the  deer  !  It  was  dark  by  the  time  we 
had  got  through  our  task,  and  with  bent  and 
aching  backs  and  blunted  knives  had  returned  to 
camp,  about  the  dirtiest,  most  blood-stained, 
hungriest,  happiest,  most  contented,  and  most 
disreputable-looking  crowd  to  be  found  anywhere 
in  the  great  territories  of  the  West.  I  shall  never 
participate  in  such  a  day's  sport  as  that  again. 
It  was  wonderful,  because  it  partook  of  the  double 
nature  of  stalking  and  running  on  horseback,  for 
we  had  our  stalk  first,  and  killed  five  or  six  wapiti 
on  foot,  and  then  we  had  our  run  and  killed  a 
lot  more.  The  next  two  days  we  were  busily 
engaged  in  cutting  up  the  meat  with  axes  and 
taking  it  into  camp,  for  it  must  not  be  supposed 
that  an  ounce  of  all  that  meat  was  wasted  ;  we 
hauled  every  bit  of  it  out  to  the  fort,  where  the 
demand  for  fresh  venison  greatly  exceeded  our 
supply. 

The  worst  of  killing  so  much  game  in  a  short 
time  is  that  it  brings  one's  hunt  to  a  premature 
end.  We  had  got  all  the  meat  we  could  carry, 
and  there  was  nothing  for  us  to  do  but  hitch  up 


84  CANADIAN   NIGHTS 

our  teams  and  drive  back  to  settlements.  Two  or 
three  days  after  our  return  the  fort  had  a  narrow 
escape  of  being  burned  up  in  the  night  hy  a  prairie 
fire  of  unusual  magnitude.  The  fire  originated  a 
long  way  off,  down  on  the  Republican  river,  but 
there  was  a  stiff  breeze  blowing  at  the  time,  and 
it  travelled  with  most  amazing  swiftness  towards 
us.  While  it  was  still  miles  and  miles  away  the 
whole  sky  was  lit  up  with  a  fierce  lurid  glare,  and 
as  it  soon  became  evident  that  it  was  coming  in 
our  direction,  energetic  measures  were  at  once 
taken  to  fight  the  foe.  All  the  troops,  consisting, 
if  I  remember  right,  of  eight  companies  of  infantry 
and  two  or  three  troops  of  cavalry,  were  ordered 
out,  and  every  other  able-bodied  man  in  the  fort 
was  requisitioned.  The  fire  bore  down  upon  us 
from  the  south  with  awful  speed  and  overwhelming 
power.  It  was  terrifying  but  grand  to  see  it 
coming.  The  country  to  the  south  is  very  hilly, 
with  long  valleys  leading  down  towards  the  fort. 
The  fire  would  work  its  way  comparatively  slowly 
up  a  hill,  and  then  pausing  as  it  were  for  a  moment 
on  the  brink,  would  be  caught  by  the  wind  and 
hurled  dovm  the  slope  with  a  roar  that  could  be 
heard  miles  away.  It  poured  down  the  valleys 
with  a  rush,  tossing  a  spray  of  flames  twenty  or 


WAPITI-RUNNING  ON  THE  PLAINS    85 

thirty  feet  high  into  the  air,  like  as  if  a  vast  pent- 
up  flood  of  molten  metal  had  suddenly  burst  its 
barriers  and  spread  over  the  plain.  No  living 
creature  that  v^alks  the  earth,  however  fleet  of 
foot,  could  have  escaped  the  fierce  onslaught  of 
those  flames.  The  approach  of  the  fire  was  not 
uniform  and  regular,  but  was  affected  by  every 
change  and  flaw  of  wind ;  sometimes  it  would 
move  slowly,  with  a  loud  crackUng  noise  like  that 
made  by  a  bundle  of  dry  sticks  burning ;  then  it 
would  come  tearing  on  in  leaps  and  bounds,  de- 
vouring the  earth  and  roaring  like  a  huge  furnace. 
Occasionally  a  great  body  of  fire  advanced  steadily 
in  one  direction  for  some  time,  till,  checked  by 
some  change  of  wind,  it  would  die  down  altogether, 
or  move  on  in  some  other  course ;  but,  in  spite  of 
occasional  deflections  of  this  kind,  the  general 
drift  of  the  fire  was  straight  towards  us,  and  it 
soon  became  painfully  evident  that  unless  the 
enemy  could  be  checked  or  turned  aside  the  fort 
was  doomed.  Fire  is  an  awful  foe,  but  the  men 
met  it  gallantly — advancing  in  line,  commanded 
by  their  officers,  as  if  moving  against  a  living 
enemy,  only,  instead  of  being  armed  with  sabre 
and  rifle,  they  carried  water-buckets  and  blankets. 
As  soon  as  they  got  as  near  as  the  intense  heat 


86  CANADIAN   NIGHTS 

would  allow  them,  they  set  to  work  burning  broad 
strips  of  grass  before  the  advancing  flames.  It 
IS  of  course  impossible  to  cope  with  the  fire  itself, 
no  creature  could  stand  near  it  for  a  moment  and 
live ;  the  only  way  to  deal  with  it  is  to  burn  the 
ground  in  front  of  the  object  you  want  to  save, 
so  that  when  the  fire  comes  down  to  the  burned 
and  bare  place  it  shall  be  forced,  from  want  of 
fuel,  to  turn  aside.  That  sounds  simple  enough, 
but  in  the  case  I  am  thinking  of  it  was  difficult 
and  dangerous  work.  The  grass  was  very  high, 
dry  as  tinder,  and  with  a  strong  gale  blowing  it 
was  no  easy  matter  to  keep  in  check  the  flames 
that  were  lit  on  purpose.  The  men  had  to  keep 
on  firing  the  grass  and  beating  down  the  flames 
with  blankets,  and  firing  it  further  on  and  beating 
it  down  again,  until  a  strip  of  burned  ground,  so 
broad  that  it  could  not  be  overleaped  by  the 
flames,  was  interposed  between  the  fire  and  the 
fort.  It  is  hard  to  imagine  anything  more  heUish 
than  that  scene.  The  heat  was  intense,  the  sky 
glowed  lurid,  red  with  the  reflection  of  the  flames, 
the  fire  poured  down  towards  us  as  if  it  would 
devour  everything  in  its  way,  and  between  us  and 
the  flames,  standing  out  clear  and  distinct  against 
the   intense   bright   light,   was   the   fighting   line, 


WAPITI-RUNNING   ON   THE   PLAINS     87 

wild-looking  figures  waving  coats  and  blankets  as 
they  furiously  beat  the  flames,  men  rushing  to  and 
fro  and  mounted  officers  galloping  up  and  down 
the  rank.  After  some  hours'  incessant  hard  work, 
they  beat  the  fire,  thrust  it  on  one  side,  and  saved 
the  fort ;  but  it  was  a  very,  very  narrow  escape, 
for  the  flames  passed  awfully  close  to  the  hay- 
yard,  where  a  whole  winter's  supply  of  forage  was 
stacked.  A  few  yards  nearer,  and  the  hay  must 
have  ignited,  and  if  that  had  once  caught  fire 
nothing  could  have  saved  the  stables  and  all  the 
other  buildings  in  the  place.  There  was  no  actual 
danger  to  life,  for  the  barrack  square  of  hard  bare 
earth  was  sufficiently  large  to  have  afforded  shelter 
and  safety  to  all  the  human  beings  in  the  fort ; 
but  the  horses  would  probably  have  perished,  and 
the  stores,  and  barracks,  and  officers'  quarters, 
and  in  fact  the  whole  settlement,  would  have  been 
burned  to  ashes.  The  fire  travelled  some  200 
miles  that  night,  destroyed  a  lot  of  cattle,  leaped 
over  two  or  three  good-sized  streams,  and  was 
finally  arrested  in  its  devastating  course  by  a 
large  river. 

We  remained  some  time  in  that  country, 
made  several  expeditions  from  the  fort,  had  many 
little  adventures,  and  enjoyed  much  good  sport. 


88  CANADIAN   NIGHTS 

but  never  again  had  such  a  run  after  wapiti  as 
that  which  I  have  endeavoured  to  describe.  Cir- 
cumstances must  be  very  favourable  to  ensure  a 
good  run  after  elk  :  the  ground  must  be  tolerably- 
hard,  or  else  there  is  no  chance  whatever,  and  you 
must  be  able  to  get  near  enough  to  the  game 
unseen  to  enable  you  to  burst  in  upon  them  at 
the  first  spurt,  otherwise  you  will  never  get  up 
with  them  at  all.  I  remember  once  chasing  a 
wounded  stag  nearly  all  day  along  with  a  friend 
who  was  hunting  with  me  and  a  government 
scout.  It  was  most  ludicrous  :  we  got  within 
about  300  yards  of  him,  and  do  what  we  would  we 
could  get  no  nearer.  We  followed  in  this  way  for 
hours,  till  our  horses  were  completely  blown,  and 
eventually  killed  him,  because  the  deer  himself 
became  exhausted  through  loss  of  blood,  just  as 
our  horses  were  giving  out.  The  scout  had  got 
within  a  hundred  yards  or  so,  and  was  just  pulling 
up  his  completely  played-out  horse,  when  the 
deer  stood  still  for  a  moment,  which  gave  the 
man  time  to  slip  out  of  the  saddle  and  finish  him 
with  a  lucky  shot.  He  was  a  fine  stag,  with  a  good 
pair  of  horns.  A  nice  chase  he  gave  us,  and  a  nice 
job  we  had  to  get  back  to  camp  that  night.  We 
were   completely   lost,   had   been    running   round 


WAPITI-RUNNING   ON   THE  PLAINS     89 

and  round,  up  and  down,  in  and  out,  for  hours, 
and  it  was  more  by  good  luck  than  good  manage- 
ment that  we  hit  upon  the  river  and  got  safe 
home. 

The  prairie  is  the  place  to  go  to  if  you  want  to 
make  a  big  bag,  but  for  true  sport  commend  me 
to  the  forest  and  the  hills.  To  me  at  least  there 
is  infinitely  more  charm  in  stalking  wapiti  among 
the  mountains,  in  the  magnificent  scenery  to  be 
found  there,  than  in  running  them  on  the  plains. 
The  plains,  although  they  give  one  a  sense  of 
freedom  and  a  certain  exaltation  from  their  im- 
mensity, yet  are  dismal  and  melancholy,  and 
running  elk,  although  intensely  exciting,  is  scarcely 
a  legitimate  and  sportsmanlike  way  of  hunting 
such  a  noble  beast.  But  in  the  mountains,  stalking 
elk,  picking  out  a  good  stag  and  creeping  up  to 
him,  is  as  fine  a  sport  as  can  be  obtained  anywhere 
in  the  world ;  in  fact,  it  is  like  deerstalking  in 
Scotland,  with  everything  in  grand  proportions, 
mountains  many  thousand  feet  in  height  instead  of 
hills  of  a  few  hundred,  and  a  magnificent  animal 
weighing  600  or  800  pounds  instead  of  a  com- 
paratively small  deer  which  would  not  turn  the 
scale  at  twenty  stone. 

Wapiti  used  to    be,  and   I    suppose    still    are. 


90  CANADIAN   NIGHTS 

plentiful  in  all  the  mountainous  regions  of  the 
Western  Territories.  They  were  very  numerous 
formerly  in  that  portion  of  Colorado  with  which 
I  am  best  acquainted,  namely,  Estes  Park  and  the 
mountains  and  valleys  surrounding  it ;  but  now 
that  the  Park  is  settled  up  their  visits  are  com- 
paratively rare.  The  flat  country  used  to  be  full 
of  them  in  autumn,  they  would  run  among  the 
cattle,  and  apparently  take  little  notice  of  them  ; 
but  chasing  them  with  hounds  has  made  them 
very  shy,  and  now  they  do  not  often  come  down 
except  in  winter,  when  deep  snow  upon  the  range 
compels  them  to  seek  pasturage  on  the  lower 
grounds.  Still,  there  are  even  now  plenty  of 
them  in  the  neighbourhood,  and  wapiti  can 
always  be  found  with  a  little  trouble  at  any 
season  of  the  year. 

Thirty  years  ago  Estes  Park  was  a  hunter's 
paradise.  Not  only  were  all  the  wild  beasts  of  the 
continent  plentiful,  but  the  streams  also  were  alive 
with  trout,  as  for  the  matter  of  that  they  are  still ; 
and  we  often  devoted  a  day  to  fishing,  by  way  of 
varying  our  sport  and  obtaining  a  little  change  of 
diet.  In  summer  there  was  nothing  peculiar  about 
the  method  of  fishing  ;  we  used  artificial  flies,  or 
live  grasshoppers,  and  caught  multitudes  of  trout, 


WAPITI-RUNNING   ON   THE   PLAINS    91 

for  they  generally  took  the  fly  so  well  that  I  never 
remember  finding  myself  in  the  position  of  the 
gentleman  who  was  heard  complaining  to  a  friend 
that  he  had  been  "  slinging  a  five  and  twenty  cent 
bug,^  with  a  twenty  foot  pole,  all  day,  and  had  not 
had  nary  bite  "  ;  and  on  the  rare  occasions  on  which 
they  did  not  rise  freely  at  the  artificial  insect,  you 
were  pretty  sure  to  get  them  with  a  live  "  hopper." 
There  is  another  advantage  also  in  using  the  last- 
mentioned  bait,  namely,  that  it  assures  a  double 
amount  of  sport  and  labour,  for  catching  grass- 
hoppers is  a  great  deal  harder  work  than  hooking 
trout.  But  in  winter  we  had  to  fish  through  holes 
in  the  ice,  and  that  is  a  somewhat  peculiar  proceed- 
ing. The  first  time  I  ever  fished  trout  through  the 
ice  was  in  the  Park.  Three  of  us  started  off  one 
fine  bright  winter's  morning,  and  rode  about  ten  or 
twelve  miles  up  the  main  creek,  to  a  place  near  some 
beaver  dams  where  trout  were  said  to  be  plentiful, 
carrying  with  us  an  axe,  a  sack,  some  twine  and 
hooks,  a  bit  of  raw  pork,  and  of  course  our  rifles. 
Having  dismounted,  tied  up  my  horse,  and  selected 

*  The  Americans  have  retained  the  original  meaning  of  the  word  "  bug," 
and  apply  it  to  various  insects :  for  instance,  a  daddy-long-legs,  fire-fly,  or 
lady-bird  would  be  called  a  straddle  bug,  a  lightning  bug,  or  a  lady  bug. 
The  peculiar  reptile  which  has  monopolised  the  term  among  us  is  dis- 
tinguished in  the  States  by  prefixing  the  name  of  that  article  of  furniture 
in  which  he  loves  to  lurk,  and  where  his  presence  murders  sweet  repose. 


92  CANADIAN    NIGHTS 

what  I  thought  was  a  likely  looking  spot,  I  set  to 
work  to  cut  through  the  ice,  while  my  companions 
rode  some  way  further  up  the  stream. 

I  cut  and  chopped  and  got  pretty  warm,  for  it 
is  no  joke  cutting  through  two  feet  of  solid  ice,  and, 
after  some  labour,  struck  down  upon  an  almost  dry 
gravel  bed.  I  repeated  the  same  operation  the 
second  time  to  my  great  disgust ;  but  on  the  third 
attempt  the  axe  went  suddenly  through  into  deep 
water.  You  know  something  about  it,  and  will  agree 
with  me  that  the  proper  way  to  set  to  work  is  to 
chop  a  square  hole,  taking  pains  to  cut  down  very 
evenly  ;  the  improper  way  is  to  do  as  I  did  the  first 
time — cut  carelessly,  get  down  deeper  on  one  side 
of  the  square  than  on  the  other,  suddenly  strike 
the  axe  through,  and  get  the  hole  full  of  water, 
while  yet  there  are  several  inches  of  ice  to  be  cut 
through.  If  anyone  will  try  chopping  ice  in  a  hole 
two  feet  deep  and  full  of  water,  he  will  discover 
that  the  splashing,  though  graceful  to  look  at,  is 
not  comfortable  to  feel  in  cold  weather.  Fishing 
through  the  ice  is  chilly  and  depressing  work.  I 
mean  such  fishing  as  I  am  thinking  of  when  you  are 
exposed  to  all  the  keen  airs  of  heaven,  a  solitary 
shivering  mortal  out  all  alone  in  the  wilderness. 
Of  course  if  two  young  persons  go  out  fishing  for 


WAPITI-RUNNING   ON  THE  PLAINS     93 

Tommy-cods,  as  they  occasionally  do  on  the  St. 
Lawrence,  through  a  hole  in  the  ice,  with  a  nice  little 
hut  built  over  it,  and  a  nice  little  stove  inside,  why 
things  are  quite  different. 

I  cannot  say  that  fishing  through  the  ice  under 
ordinary  circumstances  is  very  exciting  sport,  but 
there  is  something  comical  about  it,  and  it  affords 
a  certain  amount  of  innocent  enjoyment.  When 
I  rejoined  my  pals  that  evening,  I  could  not  forbear 
laughing  at  the  peculiar  appearance  of  the  winter 
trout-fisher  as  represented  by  a  staid,  respectable 
member  of  society,  who  looked  as  if  he  ought  to  be 
engaged  in  some  learned  or  scientific  pursuit  or 
dressed  in  good  broadcloth,  and  poring  over  his 
books  in  some  well-filled  library.  His  costume  was 
remarkable.  His  feet  were  protected  by  volumi- 
nous moccasins  stuffed  with  many  woollen  socks ; 
his  legs  encased  in  dingy  and  somewhat  greasy 
corduroys ;  his  body  in  an  ancient,  blood-stained, 
weather-beaten  jacket,  with  two  or  three  pieces  of 
old  sacking  or  gunny  bags  hung  on  the  shoulders, 
and  strapped  round  the  waist  to  keep  off  the  vdnd  ; 
an  ordinary  deerstalking  cap,  with  pieces  filched 
from  a  buffalo  robe  sewn  on  the  ear-flaps,  pulled 
over  the  brows  and  tied  under  the  chin,  and  a  long 
and   tattered  woollen   muffler  wound   round   and 


94  CANADIAN   NIGHTS 

round  the  neck,  allowed  little  of  the  fisherman's 
face  to  be  seen,  except  a  nose,  purple  with  cold, 
from  which  hung  a  little  icicle,  and  a  pair  of  eyes 
gazing  intently  at  the  hole  in  the  ice  over  which  he 
stooped.  Patiently  he  crouched  over  his  fishing 
hole,  occasionally  stirring  up  the  water  to  keep  it 
from  freezing,  holding  in  his  hand  a  fishing-rod  in 
the  shape  of  a  stick  about  a  foot  long,  from  which 
depended  a  piece  of  thick  twine  attached  to  a  hook 
armed  with  the  eye  of  a  deceased  trout  as  a  bait.  At 
intervals  he  would  twitch  out  a  fish,  pull  him  violently 
off  the  hook — a  man  cannot  employ  much  delicacy 
of  manipulation  when  his  hands  are  encased  in  thick 
fingerless  mittens — and  throw  him  on  a  heap  of  his 
forerunners  in  misfortune,  where  he  speedily  froze 
solid  in  the  very  act  of  protesting  by  vigorous  con- 
tortions against  his  cruel  fate.  We  caught  I  should 
be  ashamed  to  say  how  many  dozen  trout  on  that 
occasion.  I  know  we  had  the  best  part  of  a  sack- 
ful, but  as  to  the  exact  size  of  the  sack  I  propose  to 
retain  a  strict  reserve,  lest  I  should  be  accused  of 
taking  a  mean  advantage  of  that  noble  little  fish  the 
trout. 

On  the  way  home  we  shot  a  mountain  sheep. 
We  came  suddenly  and  unexpectedly  upon  three  of 
them,  started  our  host  of  the  ranch  Griff  Evan's 


WAPITI-RUNNING   ON   THE   PLAINS    95 

huge  hound  Plunk  after  them,  jumped  off  our 
horses,  and  put  out  up  the  mountain  on  foot  after 
the  dog.  What  a  pace  those  sheep  went  up  that 
mountain,  and  what  a  pace  old  Plunk  went  up  after 
them,  and  what  a  ludicrously  long  way  behind  we 
were  left !  It  made  one  quite  ashamed  of  being  a 
man  to  see  the  manner  in  which  the  sheep  and  the 
dog  got  away  up  the  mountain  and  out  of  sight  before 
we  had  panted  and  perspired  up  a  few  hundred  feet. 
We  might  have  saved  ourselves  the  trouble  of  climb- 
ing, for  presently  down  came  one  of  the  sheep, 
followed  closely  by  Plunk  and  preceded  by  a  small 
avalanche  of  rattling  gravel  and  bounding  stones,  in 
such  a  hurry  that  he  as  nearly  as  possible  ran 
between  the  legs  of  one  of  the  sportsmen.  The 
animal  passed  literally  within  two  yards  of  him  with 
such  startHng  effect  that  he  had  no  time  to  do  any- 
thing but  fire  his  rifle  off  in  the  air  in  a  kind  of  vague 
and  general  way.  Plunk  stuck  to  the  sheep  gallantly, 
and  pressed  him  so  hard  that  he  went  to  bay  in  the 
bed  of  the  river,  at  a  place  where  the  water  rushes 
foaming  down  a  steep  descent  among  a  mass  of 
huge  boulders,  and  there  he  met  his  fate. 

"  That  was   my  first   experience,"   said  Willie, 
"  with    Ovis  Montana,  the  bighorn  or    mountain 


96  CANADIAN   NIGHTS 

sheep.  I  don't  think  I  care  for  hunting  big  game 
with  hounds.  I'd  rather  pit  my  inteUigence  and 
cunning  and  senses  against  those  of  my  quarry 
in  a  sohtary  stalk.  But  the  mere  mention  of 
mountain  sheep  opens  the  flood-gates  of  memories, 
and  I  will  tell  you  more  about  them  some  other 
night  if  you  so  please.  In  the  meantime,  don't 
you  think  it  is  about  time  for  bed  ?  I  only  hope 
my  wapiti-running  has  not  sunk  me  in  your 
estimation  to  the  level  of  an  inhuman  hunter 
thirsting  for  blood.  Such  slaughter,  the  prairie 
looking  like  a  battlefield  !  I  hate  it.  The  hunting 
instinct  is  dead  in  me  and  I  have  no  lust  for 
blood." 

"  But  I  can  understand  the  wild  excitement," 
I  rejoined,  "  and  how  the  fierce  instincts  of  God 
knows  how  many  ancestral  generations  of  men 
living  by  the  chase  may  under  such  excitement 
be  evoked ;  and  you  wasted  nothing.  Had  those 
noble  beasts  been  left  to  wolves  and  foxes  I  could 
not  have  forgiven  it.  But  the  meat  was  wanted  and 
was  used.     That  saves  your  face.     Sleep  in  peace." 

The  morning  broke  clear,  hard  and  cold.  Not 
a  shred  of  cloud,  not  a  breath  of  soft  air  from  the 
south  gave  promise  of  a  change,  and  we  spent  a 
quiet  uneventful  day. 


WAPITI-RUNNING   ON   THE   PLAINS     97 

It  wanted  about  two  hours  to  sundown  when 
the  thin  sound  of  distant  voices  reached  us  through 
the  still  crisp  air,  and  presently  the  party  foreseen 
by  Willie  Whisper  came  into  camp.  He  proved 
accurate  in  his  vision.  The  party  consisted  of 
two  English  gentlemen  novices  in  the  woods,  and 
three  countrymen — "  habitants  "  as  they  would  be 
styled  in  Quebec — conducting  them  on  a  hunting 
trip.  They  had,  as  Willie  suggested,  run  down 
the  stream  in  two  birch- bark  canoes  to  the  little 
chain  of  lakes,  where,  finding  the  ice  too  thick 
to  permit  of  attempting  to  break  a  passage  for 
so  fragile  a  structure  as  a  birch-bark,  they  had 
"  cached "  their  canoes  and  stores,  and  tramped 
across  the  cranberry  marshes  to  the  disused  lumber 
camp  in  which  we  had  taken  up  our  temporary 
abode.  The  afternoon  passed  busily  in  helping 
to  make  the  newcomers — guests  in  a  sort  of  way 
— comfortably  at  home.  Cheerily  it  passed  also, 
for  they  brought  some  luxuries  in  their  packs, 
flour,  tea  and  sugar,  a  little  keg  of  butter,  and  a 
littler  one  of  whisky.  By  nightfall  we  had  all 
settled  down  to  wait  for  a  thaw  with  what  patience 
we  could  command.  Willie  Whisper  stayed  with 
us  during  the  cold  snap,  and  took  his  share  and 
contributed    his    share    of    shelter,   warmth,  and 


98  CANADIAN    NIGHTS 

food.  The  guides  knew  him  by  reputation,  and 
welcomed  the  chance  of  hearing  a  yarn  from  him  ; 
for  if  he  was  in  one  of  his  silent  moods  no  one 
could  get  anything  out  of  him  at  all. 

"  Well,  gents,"  said  the  elder  of  the  two  guides 
when  we  had  finished  supper  that  night,  "  your 
Indian  says  this  frost  ain't  set  in  for  good,  and  I 
guess  he  ought  to  know.  But  it  looks  like  we 
were  going  to  be  stuck  up  in  this  old  shanty  in 
the  middle  of  a  cranberry  swamp  for  some  days 
with  nothing  to  do  but  chop  wood.  I  and  my 
partner  are  taking  these  two  gents  in  to  try  and 
get  a  moose.  It's  a  kind  of  new  job  for  us.  I 
was  sent  in  a  couple  of  months  ago  to  report  upon 
a  patch  of  likely  looking  timber,  and  my  partner 
here  to  look  at  a  place  where  some  durned  fool 
thought  he  had  found  gold.  Now  we  are  after 
moose  and  caribou.  We  go  into  these  cursed 
swamps  and  woods  for  business.  The  gents 
go  for  pleasure.  Now  I  don't  suppose  our 
business  experiences  would  interest  you,  but 
if  you,  sir  "  (turning  to  Willie),  "  would  tell  us 
what  took  you  in  for  pleasure,  and  where  the 
pleasure  comes  in,  why,  if  agreeable  to  you  it 
would  be  agreeable  to  me  and  my  partner,  and  it 
would  be  interesting  I  am  sure  to  these  two  gents, 


WAPITI-RUNNING   ON   THE   PLAINS     99 

who  are  going  in  hunting  for  the  first  time.  Any 
way,  it  would  pass  the  time  and  keep  us  from 
quarreUing  for  want  of  something  else  to  do. 
What  do  you  say  to  spinning  us  a  yam  ?  " 

"  Well,"  said  WiUie  Whisper,  "  I've  hunted  a 
bit  in  the  woods,  among  the  mountains  and  on 
the  great  plains,  and  the  memory  of  those  hunts 
is  pretty  fresh.  But  as  to  the  pleasure  to  be 
found  in  hunting,  you  must  judge  of  that  for 
yourselves.  Some  people  find  no  pleasure  where 
there  is  no  profit.  To  others  the  mere  fact  that 
there  is  no  profit  constitutes  half  the  pleasure. 
Well,  here  goes.  What  shall  I  begin  with  ?  You 
two  gentlemen  are  about  to  have  your  first  ex- 
perience of  the  Canadian  woods,  so  I  may  as  well 
make  a  start  with  moose-hunting  in  Canada." 

It  would  be  tedious  to  allude  to  the  episodes 
of  each  recurring  day.  The  daylight  hours  were 
short  in  the  ordinary  routine  of  an  idle  camp — 
cooking,  eating,  foraging  for  food,  trout  and  a 
few  spruce  partridges,  cleaning  guns,  mending 
moccasins,  cutting  firewood,  and  so  on.  I  will 
just  recount  the  substance  of  the  yarns  that  were 
spun  night  after  night  before  the  red  fire. 


MOOSE-HUNTING    IN    CANADA 

Moose-hunting,  if  it  has  no  other  advantages, 
at  least  leads  a  man  to  solitude  and  the  woods, 
and  life  in  the  woods  tends  to  develop  many 
excellent  qualities  which  are  not  invariably  pro- 
duced by  what  we  are  pleased  to  call  our  civilisa- 
tion. It  makes  a  man  patient,  and  able  to  bear 
constant  disappointments ;  it  enables  him  to 
endure  hardship  with  indifference,  and  it  produces 
a  feeling  of  self-reliance  which  is  both  pleasant 
and  serviceable.  True  luxury,  to  my  mind,  is 
only  to  be  found  in  such  a  life.  No  man  who  has 
not  experienced  it  knows  what  an  exhilarating 
feeling  it  is  to  be  entirely  independent  of  weather, 
comparatively  indifferent  to  hunger,  thirst,  cold, 
and  heat,  and  to  feel  himself  capable  not  only  of 
supporting  but  of  enjoying  life  thoroughly,  and 
that  by  the  mere  exercise  of  his  own  faculties. 
Happiness  consists  in  having  few  wants  and  being 
able  to  satisfy  them,  and  there  is  more  real 
comfort  to  be  found  in  a  birch-bark  camp  than 


MOOSE-HUNTING   IN   CANADA     ioi 

in  the  most  luxuriously  furnished  and  carefully- 
appointed  dwelling. 

Such  a  home  I  have  often  helped  to  make.  It 
does  not  belong  to  any  recognised  order  of  architec- 
ture, although  it  may  fairly  claim  an  ancient  origin. 
To  erect  it  requires  no  great  exercise  of  skill,  and 
calls  for  no  training  in  art  schools.  I  will  briefly 
describe  it. 

A  birch-bark  camp  is  made  in  many  ways.  The 
best  plan  is  to  build  it  in  the  form  of  a  square, 
varying  in  size  according  to  the  number  of  inhabitants 
that  you  propose  to  accommodate.  Having  selected 
a  suitable  level  spot  and  cleared  away  the  shrubs  and 
rubbish,  you  proceed  to  make  four  low  walls  com- 
posed of  two  or  three  small  suitable-sized  pine  logs 
laid  one  on  the  other,  and  on  these  little  low  walls 
so  constructed  you  raise  the  framework  of  the 
camp.  This  consists  of  light  thin  poles,  the  lower 
ends  being  stuck  into  the  upper  surface  of  the  pine 
trees  which  form  the  walls,  and  the  upper  ends 
leaning  against  and  supporting  each  other.  The 
next  operation  is  to  strip  large  sheets  of  bark  off 
the  birch  trees,  and  thatch  these  poles  with  them  to 
within  a  foot  or  two  of  the  top,  leaving  a  sufficient 
aperture  for  the  smoke  to  escape.  Other  poles  are 
then  laid  upon  the  sheets  of  birch  bark  to  keep 


ioi  ' '*    '  ; ,. .CANADIAN   NIGHTS 

them  in  their  places.  A  small  doorway  is  left  in 
one  side,  and  a  door  is  constructed  out  of  slabs  of 
wood  or  out  of  the  skin  of  some  animal.  The 
uppermost  log  is  hewn  through  with  an  axe,  so  that 
the  wall  shall  not  be  inconveniently  high  to  step 
over,  and  the  hut  is  finished.  Such  a  camp  is  per- 
fectly impervious  to  wind  or  weather,  or  rather  can 
be  made  so  by  filling  up  the  joints  and  cracks  be- 
tween the  sheets  of  birch  bark  and  the  interstices 
between  the  pine  logs  with  moss  and  dry  leaves. 
You  next  level  off  the  ground  inside,  and  on  three 
sides  of  the  square  strew  it  thickly  with  the  small 
tops  of  the  sapin  or  Canada-balsam  fir,  for  a  breadth 
of  about  four  feet ;  then  take  some  long  pliant  ash 
saplings  or  withy  rods,  and  peg  them  down  along 
the  edge  of  the  pine  tops  to  keep  your  bed  or  carpet 
in  its  place,  leaving  a  bare  space  in  the  centre  of  the 
hut,  where  you  make  your  fire.  Two  or  three  rough 
slabs  of  pine  to  act  as  shelves  must  then  be  fixed 
into  the  wall,  a  couple  of  portage-straps  or  tump- 
lines  stretched  across  on  which  to  hang  your  clothes, 
and  the  habitation  is  complete. 

I  ought  perhaps  to  explain  what  a  "  portage- 
strap  "  and  a  "  portage  "  are.  Many  French  and 
Spanish  words  have  become  incorporated  with  the 


MOOSE-HUNTING    IN    CANADA     103 

English  language  in  America.  The  western  cattle- 
man or  farmer  speaks  of  his  farm  or  house  as  his 
"  ranch,"  calls  the  enclosure  into  which  he  drives 
his  stock  a  "  corral,"  fastens  his  horse  with  a  "  lariat," 
digs  an ''  acequia  "  to  irrigate  his  land,  gets  lost  in  the 
"  chapparal  "  instead  of  the  bush  ;  and  uses  com- 
monly many  other  Spanish  words  and  expressions. 
No  hunter  or  trapper  talks  of  hiding  anything ;  he 
"  caches  "  it,  and  he  calls  the  place  where  he  has 
stowed  away  a  little  store  of  powder,  flour,  or  some 
of  the  other  necessaries  of  life,  a  "  cache."  The 
French  word  "  prairie,"  as  everybody  knows,  has 
become  part  and  parcel  of  the  English  language. 
Indians  and  half-breeds,  who  never  heard  French 
spoken  in  their  lives,  greet  each  other  at  meeting 
and  parting  with  the  salutation  "  bo  jour "  and 
"  adieu."  And  so  the  word  "  portage  "  has  come 
to  be  generally  used  to  denote  the  piece  of  dry  land 
separating  two  rivers  or  lakes  over  which  it  is  neces- 
sary to  carry  canoes  and  baggage  when  travelling 
through  the  country  in  summer.  Sometimes  it  is 
literally  translated  and  called  a  "  carry."  Another 
French  word,  "  traverse,"  is  frequently  used  in 
canoeing,  to  signify  a  large  unsheltered  piece  of 
water  which  it  is  necessary  to  cross.     A  deeply 


104  CANADIAN   NIGHTS 

laden  birch-bark  canoe  will  not  stand  a  great  deal 
of  sea,  and  quite  a  heavy  sea  gets  up  very  rapidly  on 
large  fresh-water  lakes,  so  that  a  long  "  traverse  "  is 
a  somewhat  formidable  matter.  You  may  want  to 
cross  a  lake,  say,  five  or  six  miles  in  width,  but  of  such 
a  size  that  it  would  take  you  a  couple  of  days  to  coast 
all  round.  That  open  stretch  of  five  or  six  miles 
would  be  called  a  "  traverse." 

The  number  and  length  of  the  portages  on  any 
canoe  route,  and  the  kind  of  trail  that  leads  over 
them,  are  important  matters  to  consider  in  canoe 
travelling.  A  man  in  giving  information  about  any 
journey  will  enter  into  most  minute  particulars 
about  them.  He  will  say,  "  You  go  up  such  and 
such  a  river,"  and  he  will  tell  you  all  about  it — 
where  there  are  strong  rapids  ;  where  it  is  very 
shallow ;  where  there  are  deep  still  reaches  in 
which  the  paddle  can  be  used,  and  where  you  must 
pole,  and  so  forth.  Then  he  will  tell  you  how  you 
come  to  some  violent  rapid  or  fall  that  necessitates 
a  "  portage,"  and  explain  exactly  how  to  strike  into 
the  eddy,  and  shove  your  canoe  into  the  bank  at  a 
certain  place,  and  take  her  out  there,  and  how  long 
the  "  portage  "  is ;  whether  there  is  a  good  trail,  or  a 
bad  trail,  or  no  trail  at  all ;  and  so  on  with  every 
''  portage "    on   the   route.     Carrying  canoes  and 


MOOSE-HUNTING    IN   CANADA     105 

baggage  across  the  "  portage  "  is  arduous  work.  A 
birch-bark  canoe  must  be  treated  delicately,  for  it 
is  a  very  fragile  creature.  You  allow  it  to  ground 
very  carefully  ;  step  out  into  the  water,  take  out  all 
the  bales,  boxes,  pots,  pans,  bedding,  rifles,  &c. ; 
lift  up  the  canoe  bodily,  and  turn  her  upside  down 
for  a  few  minutes  to  drain  the  water  out.  The 
Indian  then  turns  her  over,  grasps  the  middle 
thwart  with  both  hands,  and  with  a  sudden  twist  of 
the  wrists  heaves  her  up  in  the  air,  and  deposits  her 
upside  down  on  his  shoulders,  and  walks  off  with 
his  burden.  An  ordinary-sized  Micmac  or  Meli- 
cite  canoe,  such  as  one  man  can  easily  carry,  weighs 
about  70  or  80  lbs.,  and  will  take  two  men  and  about 
600  or  700  lbs. 

The  impedimenta  are  carried  in  this  manner. 
A  blanket,  doubled  to  a  suitable  size,  is  laid 
upon  the  ground ;  you  take  your  portage-strap,  or 
tump-line  as  it  is  sometimes  called,  which  is  com- 
posed of  strips  of  webbing  or  some  such  material, 
and  is  about  twelve  feet  long,  a  length  of  about 
two  feet  in  the  centre  being  made  of  a  piece  of 
broad  soft  leather ;  you  lay  your  line  on  the 
blanket  so  that  the  leather  part  projects,  and  fold 
the  edges  of  the  blanket  over  either  portion  of 
the  strap.     You  then  pile  up  the  articles  to  be 


io6  CANADIAN   NIGHTS 

carried  in  the  centre,  double  the  blanket  over 
them,  and  by  hauling  upon  the  two  parts  of  the 
strap  bring  the  blanket  together  at  either  side, 
so  that  nothing  can  fall  out.  You  then  cut  a 
skewer  of  wood,  stick  it  through  the  blanket  in 
the  centre,  securely  knot  the  strap  at  either  end, 
and  your  pack  is  made.  You  have  a  compact 
bundle  with  the  leather  portion  of  the  portage- 
strap  projecting  like  a  loop,  which  is  passed  over 
the  head  and  shoulders,  and  the  pack  is  carried 
on  the  back  by  means  of  the  loop  which  passes 
across  the  chest.  If  the  pack  is  very  heavy,  and 
the  distance  long,  it  is  usual  to  make  an  additional 
band  out  of  a  handkerchief  or  something  of  that 
kind,  to  attach  it  to  the  bundle,  and  pass  it  across 
the  forehead,  so  as  to  take  some  of  the  pressure 
off  the  chest.  The  regular  weight  of  a  Hudson's 
Bay  Company's  package  is  80  lbs. ;  but  any 
Indian  or  half-breed  will  carry  double  this  weight 
for  a  considerable  distance  without  distress.  A 
tump-line,  therefore,  forms  an  essential  part  of 
the  voyageuT^s  outfit  when  travelling,  and  it 
comes  in  handy  also  in  camp  as  a  clothes- 
line on  which  to  hang  one's  socks  and  moccasins 
to  dry. 

A    camp    such   as   that    I   have   attempted    to 


MOOSE-HUNTING    IN   CANADA     107 

describe  is  the  best  that  can  be  built.  An  ordinary- 
camp  is  constructed  in  the  same  way,  but  with 
this  difference,  that  instead  of  being  in  the  form 
of  a  square  it  is  in  the  shape  of  a  circle,  and  the 
poles  on  which  the  bark  is  laid  are  stuck  into  the 
ground  instead  of  into  low  walls.  There  is  not 
half  so  much  room  in  such  a  camp  as  in  the 
former,  although  the  amount  of  material  em- 
ployed is  in  both  cases  the  same.  It  may  be 
objected  that  the  sleeping  arrangements  cannot 
be  very  luxurious  in  camp.  A  good  bed  is 
certainly  an  excellent  thing,  but  it  is  very  hard 
to  find  a  better  bed  than  Nature  has  provided 
in  the  wilderness.  It  would  appear  as  if  Provi- 
dence had  specially  designed  the  Canada-balsam 
fir  for  the  purpose  of  making  a  soft  couch  for 
tired  hunters.  It  is  the  only  one,  so  far  as  I  am 
aware,  of  the  coniferous  trees  of  North  America 
in  which  the  leaves  or  spculce  lie  perfectly  flat. 
The  consequence  of  that  excellent  arrangement  is 
that  a  bed  made  of  the  short  tender  tips  of  the 
Canada  balsam,  spread  evenly  to  the  depth  of 
about  a  foot,  is  one  of  the  softest,  most  elastic, 
and  most  pleasant  couches  that  can  be  imagined ; 
and  as  the  scent  of  the  sap  of  the  Canada  balsam 
is    absolutely    delicious,    it    is    always    sweet    and 


io8  CANADIAN   NIGHTS 

refreshing — which  is  more  than  can  be  said  for 
many  beds  of  civilisation. 

Hunger  is  a  good  sauce.  A  man  coming  in 
tired  and  hungry  will  find  more  enjoyment  in  a 
piece  of  moose  meat  and  a  cup  of  tea  than  in  the 
most  luxurious  of  banquets.  Moreover  it  must 
be  remembered  that  some  of  the  wild  meats  of 
North  America  cannot  be  excelled  in  flavour  and 
delicacy ;  nothing,  for  instance,  can  be  better 
than  moose  or  caribou,  mountain  sheep  or  ante- 
lope. The  "  moufle,"  or  nose  of  the  moose,  and 
his  marrow  bones,  are  dainties  which  would  be 
highly  appreciated  by  the  most  accomplished 
epicures.  The  meat  is  good,  and  no  better 
method  of  cooking  it  has  yet  been  discovered  than 
the  simple  one  of  roasting  it  before  a  wood  fire 
on  a  pointed  stick.  Simplicity  is  a  great  source  of 
comfort,  and  makes  up  for  many  luxuries  ;  and 
nothing  can  be  more  simple,  and  at  the  same 
time  more  comfortable,  than  life  in  such  a  birch- 
bark  camp  as  I  have  attempted  to  describe.  In 
summer  time  and  in  the  fall,  until  the  weather 
begins  to  get  a  little  cold,  a  tent  affords  all  the 
shelter  that  the  sportsman  or  the  tourist  can 
require.  But  when  the  leaves  are  all  fallen,  when 
the  lakes  begin  to  freeze  up,  and  snow  covers  the 


MOOSE-HUNTING   IN   CANADA    109 

earth,  or  may  be  looked  for  at  any  moment,  the 
nights  become  too  cold  to  render  dwelling  in 
tents  any  longer  desirable.  A  tent  can  be  used  in 
winter,  and  I  have  dwelt  in  one  in  extreme  cold, 
when  the  thermometer  went  down  as  low  as  32° 
below  zero.  It  was  rendered  habitable  by  a  little 
stove,  which  made  it  at  the  same  time  exceedingly 
disagreeable.  A  stove  sufficiently  small  to  be 
portable  only  contained  wood  enough  to  burn  for 
an  hour  and  a  half  or  so.  Consequently  some  one 
had  to  sit  up  all  night  to  replenish  it.  Now, 
nobody  could  keep  awake,  and  the  result  was  that 
we  had  to  pass  through  the  unpleasant  ordeal  of 
alternately  freezing  and  roasting  during  the  whole 
night.  The  stove  was  of  necessity  composed  of 
very  thin  sheet  iron,  as  lightness  was  an  important 
object,  and  consequently  when  it  was  filled  with 
good  birch  wood  and  well  under  way,  it  became 
red-hot,  and  rendered  the  atmosphere  in  the 
tent  insupportable.  In  about  half  an  hour  or  so 
it  would  cool  dovm  a  little,  and  one  would  drop 
off  to  sleep,  only  to  wake  in  about  an  hour's  time 
shivering,  to  find  everything  frozen  soHd  in  the 
tent,  and  the  fire  nearly  out.  Such  a  method  of 
passmg  the  night  is  little  calculated  to  ensure 
sound  sleep.     In  the  depth  of  winter  it  is  quite 


no  CANADIAN    NIGHTS 

impossible  to  warm  a  tent  from  the  outside, 
however  large  the  fire  may  be.  It  must  be  built 
at  such  a  distance  that  the  canvas  cannot  possibly 
catch  fire,  and  hence  all  heat  is  dispersed  long 
before  it  can  reach  and  warm  the  interior  of  the 
tent.  It  is  far  better  to  make  a  "  lean-to "  of 
the  canvas,  build  a  large  fire,  and  sleep  out  in  the 
open.  A  "  lean-to  "  is  easily  made  and  scarcely 
needs  description.  The  name  explains  itself. 
You  strike  two  poles,  having  a  fork  at  the  upper 
end,  into  the  ground,  slanting  back  slightly;  lay 
another  fir  pole  horizontally  between  the  two, 
and  resting  in  the  crutch ;  then  place  numerous 
poles  and  branches  leaning  against  the  horizontal 
pole,  and  thus  form  a  framework  which  you  cover 
in  as  well  as  you  can  with  birch  bark,  pine  boughs, 
pieces  of  canvas,  skins,  or  whatever  material  is 
most  handy.  You  build  an  enormous  fire  in  the 
front,  and  the  camp  is  complete.  A  "  lean-to  " 
must  always  be  constructed  with  reference  to  the 
direction  of  the  wind  ;  it  serves  to  keep  off  the 
wind  and  a  certain  amount  of  snow  and  rain.  In 
other  respects  it  is,  as  the  Irishman  said  of  the 
sedan-chair  with  the  bottom  out,  more  for  the  honour 
and  glory  of  the  thing  than  anything  else.  For  all 
practical  purposes  you  are  decidedly  out  of  doors. 


MOOSE-HUNTING    IN   CANADA     in 

Although  the  scenery  of  the  greater  part  of 
Canada  cannot  justly  be  described  as  grand  or 
magnificent,  yet  there  is  a  weird,  melancholy, 
desolate  beauty  about  her  barrens,  a  soft  loveli- 
ness in  her  lakes  and  forest  glades  in  summer,  a 
gorgeousness  of  colour  in  her  autumn  woods,  and 
a  stern,  sad  stateliness  when  winter  has  draped 
them  all  with  snow,  that  cannot  be  surpassed  in 
any  land.  I  remember,  as  distinctly  as  if  I  had 
left  it  but  yesterday,  the  beauty  of  the  camp  from 
which  I  made  my  first  successful  expedition  after 
moose  one  calling  season.  I  had  been  out  several 
times  unsuccessfully,  sometimes  getting  no  answer 
at  all ;  at  others,  calling  a  bull  close  up,  but 
failing  to  induce  him  to  show  himself ;  sometimes 
failing  on  account  of  a  breeze  springing  up,  or  of 
the  night  becoming  too  much  overcast  and  cloudy 
to  enable  me  to  see  him.  My  companions  had 
been  equally  unfortunate.  We  had  spent  the 
best  fortnight  of  the  season  in  this  way,  and  had 
shifted  our  ground  and  tried  everything  in  vain. 
At  last  we  decided  on  one  more  attempt,  broke 
camp,  loaded  our  canoes,  and  started.  We  made 
a  journey  of  two  days,  traversing  many  lovely 
lakes,  carrying  over  several  portages,  and  arrived 
at    our    destination    about    three   o'clock   in    the 


112  CANADIAN    NIGHTS 

afternoon.  We  drew  up  our  canoes  at  one  of  the 
prettiest  spots  for  a  camp  I  have  ever  seen.  It 
lay  beside  a  little  sheltered  secluded  bay  at  the 
head  of  a  lovely  lake,  some  three  or  four  miles  in 
length.  The  shores  near  us  were  covered  with 
"  hardwood  "  trees — birch,  maple,  and  beech,  in 
their  glorious  autumn  colours  ;  while  the  more 
distant  coasts  were  clothed  with  a  sombre  dark 
mass  of  firs  and  spruce.  Above  the  ordinary  level 
of  the  forest  rose  at  intervals  the  ragged  gaunt 
form  of  some  ancient  and  gigantic  pine  that  had 
escaped  the  notice  of  the  lumberman,  or  had 
proved  unworthy  of  his  axe.  In  front  of  us  and 
to  the  right,  acting  as  a  breakwater  to  our  harbour, 
lay  a  small  island  covered  with  hemlock  and 
tamarack  trees,  the  latter  leaning  over  in  various 
and  most  graceful  angles,  overhanging  the  water 
to  such  an  extent  as  sometimes  to  be  almost 
horizontal  with  it.  Slightly  to  the  left  was  a 
shallow  spot  in  the  lake  marked  by  a  growth  of 
rushes,  vividly  green  at  the  top,  while  the  lower 
halves  were  of  a  most  brilliant  scarlet,  affording 
the  precise  amount  of  warmth  and  bright  colour- 
ing that  the  picture  required.  It  is  extraordinary 
how  everything  seems  to  turn  to  brilliant  colours 
in  the  autumn  in  these  northern  latitudes.    The 


MOOSE-HUNTING   IN   CANADA      113 

evening  was  perfectly  still ;  the  surface  of  the 
lake,  unbroken  by  the  smallest  ripple,  shone  like 
a  mirror  and  reflected  the  coast-line  and  trees  so 
accurately  that  it  was  impossible  to  tell  where 
water  ended  and  land  began. 

The  love  of  money  and  the  love  of  sport  are  the 
passions  that  lead  men  into  such  scenes  as  these. 
The  lumberman,  the  salmon  fisher,  and  the  hunter 
in  pursuit  of  large  game,  monopolise  the  beauties 
of  nature  in  these  Canadian  wilds.  The  moose 
{Cervus  J  Ices)  and  caribou  {Cervus  rangifer)  are 
the  principal  large  game  to  be  found  in  Canada. 
The  moose  is  by  far  the  biggest  of  all  existing  deer. 
He  attains  to  a  height  of  quite  18  hands,  and 
weighs  about  1200  pounds  or  more.  The  moose 
of  America  is  almost,  if  not  quite,  identical  with 
the  elk  of  Europe,  but  it  attains  a  greater  size. 
The  horns  especially  are  much  finer  than  those  to 
be  found  on  the  elk  in  Russia,  Prussia,  or  the 
Scandinavian  countries. 

The  moose  has  many  advantages  over  other 
deer,  but  it  suffers  also  from  some  terrible  dis- 
advantages, which  make  it  an  easy  prey  to  its 
great  and  principal  destroyer,  man.  Whereas 
among  most,  if  not  all,  the  members  of  the  deer 

tribe,  the  female  has  but  one  fawn  at  a  birth,  the 

H 


114  CANADIAN   NIGHTS 

cow  moose  generally  drops  two  calves — which  is 
much  in  favour  of  the  race.  The  moose  is  blessed 
with  an  intensely  acute  sense  of  smell,  with  an 
almost  equally  acute  sense  of  hearing,  and  it  is 
exceedingly  wary  and  difficult  of  approach.  On 
the  other  hand,  it  is  but  little  fitted  to  move  in 
deep  snow,  owing  to  its  great  weight.  Unlike 
the  caribou,  which  has  hoofs  specially  adapted 
for  deep  snow,  the  moose's  feet  are  small  compared 
with  the  great  bulk  of  the  animal.  If,  therefore, 
it  is  once  found  and  started  when  the  snow  lies 
deep  upon  the  ground,  its  destruction  is  a  matter 
of  certainty ;  it  breaks  through  the  snow  to  solid 
earth  at  every  step,  becomes  speedily  exhausted, 
and  falls  an  easy  prey  to  men  and  dogs.  Again, 
a  large  tract  of  land  is  necessary  to  supply  food 
for  even  one  moose.  In  summer  it  feeds  a  good 
deal  upon  the  stems  and  roots  of  water-lilies,  but 
its  staple  food  consists  of  the  tender  shoots  of  the 
moose-wood,  ground-maple,  alder,  birch,  poplar, 
and  other  deciduous  trees.  It  is  fond  of  ground- 
hemlock,  and  will  also  occasionally  browse  upon 
the  safin  or  Canada  balsam,  and  even  upon  spruce, 
though  that  is  very  rare,  and  I  have  known  them 
when  hard  pressed  to  gnaw  bark  off  the  trees. 
Nova    Scotia    and    New    Brunswick    are    nearly 


MOOSE-HUNTING   IN   CANADA      115 

"  settled  up."  More  and  more  land  is  cleared 
and  brought  under  cultivation  every  day ;  more 
and  more  forest  cut  down  year  by  year ;  and  the 
moose-supporting  portion  of  the  country  is  be- 
coming very  limited  in  extent.  On  the  other 
hand,  the  moose  is  an  animal  which  could  easily 
be  preserved  if  only  reasonable  laws  could  be 
enforced.  It  adapts  itself  wonderfully  to  civilisa- 
tion. A  young  moose  will  become  as  tame  as  a 
domestic  cow  in  a  short  time.  Moose  become 
accustomed  to  the  ordinary  noises  of  a  settled 
country  with  such  facility  that  they  may  some- 
times be  found  feeding  within  a  few  hundred 
yards  of  a  road.  A  railway  does  not  appear  to 
disturb  them  at  all.  I  have  shot  moose  within 
sound  of  the  barking  of  dogs  and  the  cackling  of 
geese  of  a  farmhouse,  in  places  where  the  animals 
must  have  been  constantly  hearing  men  shouting, 
dogs  barking,  and  all  the  noises  of  a  settlement. 
Their  sense  of  hearing  is  developed  in  a  wonderful 
degree,  and  they  appear  to  be  possessed  of  some 
marvellous  power  of  discriminating  between  inno- 
cent sounds  and  noises  which  indicate  danger. 
On  a  windy  day,  when  the  forest  is  full  of  noises 
— trees  cracking,  branches  snapping,  and  twigs 
breaking — the   moose   will   take   no   notice   of   all 


ii6  CANADIAN   NIGHTS 

these  natural  sounds  ;  but  if  a  man  breaks  a  twig, 
or,  treading  on  a  dry  stick,  snaps  it  on  the  ground, 
the  moose  will  distinguish  that  sound  from  the 
hundred  voices  of  the  storm,  and  be  off  in  a 
second. 

Why  it  is  that  the  moose  has  developed  no 
peculiarity  with  regard  to  his  feet,  adapting  him 
especially  to  the  country  in  which  he  dwells, 
while  the  caribou  that  shares  the  woods  and 
barrens  with  him  has  done  so  in  a  remarkable 
degree,  I  will  leave  philosophers  to  decide.  In 
the  caribou  the  hoofs  are  very  broad  and  round, 
and  split  up  very  high,  so  that,  when  the  animal 
treads  upon  the  soft  surface  of  the  snow,  the 
hoofs  spreading  out  form  a  natural  kind  of  snow- 
shoe,  and  prevent  its  sinking  deep.  The  frog 
becomes  absorbed  towards  winter,  so  that  the 
whole  weight  of  the  animal  rests  upon  the  hoof, 
the  edges  of  which  are  as  sharp  as  a  knife,  and 
give  the  animals  so  secure  a  foothold  that  they 
can  run  without  fear  or  danger  on  the  slippery 
surface  of  smooth  glare  ice.  Now  the  moose,  on 
the  contrary,  is  about  as  awkward  on  the  ice  as  a 
shod  horse,  and  will  not  venture  out  on  the  frozen 
surface  of  a  lake  if  he  can  help  it.  His  feet  are 
rather  small  and  pointed,  and  allow  him  to  sink 


MOOSE-HUNTING   IN   CANADA      117 

and  flounder  helplessly  in  the  deep  snows  of  mid- 
winter and  early  spring. 

There  are  several  ways  in  which  the  moose  is 
hunted ;  some  legitimate  and  some  decidedly  ille- 
gitimate. First  of  all  there  is  moose-calling,  which 
to  my  mind  is  the  most  interesting  of  all  woodland 
sports.  It  commences  about  the  beginning  of 
September,  and  lasts  for  about  six  weeks,  and 
consists  in  imitating  the  cry  of  the  female  moose, 
and  thereby  calling  up  the  male.  This  may  sound 
easy  enough  to  do,  especially  as  the  bull  at  this 
season  of  the  year  loses  all  his  caution,  or  the 
greater  part  of  it.  But  the  pastime  is  surrounded 
by  so  many  difficulties,  that  it  is  really  the  most 
precarious  of  all  the  methods  of  pursuing  or  en- 
deavouring to  outwit  the  moose  ;  and  it  is  at  the 
same  time  the  most  exciting.  I  will  endeavour  to 
describe  the  method  by  giving  a  slight  sketch  of 
the  death  of  a  moose  in  New  Brunswick  woods 
last  year. 

It  was  early  in  October.  We  had  pitched  our 
tents — for  at  that  season  of  the  year  the  hunter 
dwells  in  tents — ^upon  a  beautiful  hardwood  ridge, 
bright  with  the  painted  foliage  of  birch  and 
maple.  The  weather  had  been  bad  for  calling, 
and  no  one  had  gone  out,  though  we  knew  there 


ii8  CANADIAN   NIGHTS 

were  moose  in  the  neighbourhood.  We  had  cut 
a  great  store  of  firewood,  gathered  bushels  of 
cranberries,  dug  a  well  in  the  swamp  close  by, 
and  attended  to  the  thousand  and  one  little 
comforts  that  experience  teaches  one  to  provide 
in  the  woods,  and  had  absolutely  nothing  to  do. 
The  day  was  intensely  hot  and  sultry,  and  if  any 
one  had  approached  the  camp  about  noon  he 
would  have  deemed  it  deserted.  All  hands  had 
hung  their  blankets  over  the  tents  by  way  of  pro- 
tection from  the  sun,  and  had  gone  to  sleep. 
About  one  o'clock  I  awoke,  and  sauntered  out  of 
the  tent  to  stretch  my  limbs  and  take  a  look  at 
the  sky.  I  was  particularly  anxious  about  the 
weather,  for  I  was  tired  of  idleness,  and  had  de- 
termined to  go  out  if  the  evening  offered  a  tolerably 
fair  promise  of  a  fair  night.  To  get  a  better  view 
of  the  heavens  I  climbed  to  my  accustomed  look- 
out in  a  comfortable  fork  near  the  summit  of  a 
neighbouring  pine,  and  noted  with  disgust  certain 
little  black  shreds  of  cloud  rising  slowly  above 
the  horizon.  To  aid  my  indecision  I  consulted 
my  dear  old  friend  John  Williams,  the  Indian, 
who  after  the  manner  of  his  kind  stoutly  refused 
to  give  any  definite  opinion  on  the  subject.  All 
that  I  could  get  out  of  him  was,  "  Well,  dunno ; 


MOOSE-HUNTING   IN   CANADA      119 

mebbe  fine,  mebbe  wind  get  up ;  guess  pretty 
calm,  perhaps,  in  morning.  Suppose  we  go  and 
try,  or  praps  mebbe  wait  till  to-morrow."  Finally 
I  decided  to  go  out ;  for  although  if  there  is  the 
slightest  wind  it  is  impossible  to  call,  yet  any  wise 
and  prudent  man,  unless  there  are  unmistakable 
signs  of  a  storm  brewing,  will  take  the  chance  ; 
for  the  calling  season  is  short  and  soon  over. 

I  have  said  that  an  absolutely  calm  night  is 
required  for  calling,  and  for  this  reason  :  the 
moose  is  so  wary  that  in  coming  up  to  the  call 
he  will  invariably  make  a  circle  down  wind  in 
order  to  get  scent  of  the  animal  which  is  calling 
him.  Therefore,  if  there  is  a  breath  of  wind  astir, 
the  moose  will  get  scent  of  the  man  before  the 
man  has  a  chance  of  seeing  the  moose.  A  calm 
night  is  the  first  thing  necessary.  Secondly,  you 
must  have  a  moonlight  night.  No  moose  will 
come  up  in  the  daytime.  You  can  begin  to  call 
about  an  hour  before  sunset,  and  moose  wdll 
answer  up  to,  say,  two  hours  after  sunrise.  There 
is  very  little  time,  therefore,  unless  there  is  bright 
moonlight.  In  the  third  place,  I  need  scarcely 
observe  that  to  call  moose  successfully  you  must 
find  a  place  near  camp  where  there  are  moose  to 
call,  and  where  there  are  not  only  moose,  but  bull 


120  CANADIAN   NIGHTS 

moose  ;  not  only  bull  moose,  but  bulls  that  have 
not  already  provided  themselves  with  consorts  ;  for 
if  a  real  cow  begins  calling,  the  rough  imitation 
in  the  shape  of  a  man  has  a  very  poor  chance  of 
success,  and  may  as  well  give  it  up  as  a  bad  job. 
Fourthly,  you  must  find  a  spot  that  is  convenient 
for  calling,  that  is  to  say,  a  piece  of  dry  ground, 
for  no  human  being  can  lie  out  all  night  in  the 
wet,  particularly  in  the  month  of  October,  when 
it  freezes  hard  towards  morning.  You  must  have 
dry  ground  well  sheltered  with  trees  or  shrubs  of 
some  kind,  and  a  tolerably  open  space  around  it 
for  some  distance  ;  open  enough  for  you  to  see 
the  bull  coming  up  when  he  is  yet  at  a  little  dis- 
tance, but  not  a  large  extent  of  open  ground, 
for  no  moose  will  venture  out  far  on  an  entirely 
bare  exposed  plain.  He  is  disinclined  to  leave 
the  friendly  shelter  of  the  trees.  A  perfect  spot, 
therefore,  is  not  easily  found.  Such  are  some  of 
the  difficulties  which  attend  moose-calling,  and 
render  it  a  most  precarious  pastime.  Four  con- 
ditions are  necessary,  and  all  four  must  be  com- 
bined at  one  and  the  same  time. 

Having  once  determined  to  go  out,  preparations 
do  not  take  long.  You  have  only  to  roll  up  a 
blanket  and  overcoat,  take  some  tea,   sugar,  salt, 


MOOSE-HUNTING   IN   CANADA      121 

and  biscuit,  a  kettle,  two  tin  pannikins,  and  a 
small  axe,  with,  I  need  scarcely  say,  rifle  and 
ammunition.  The  outfit  is  simple ;  but  the 
hunter  should  look  to  everything  himself,  for  an 
Indian  would  leave  his  head  behind  if  it  were 
loose.  A  good  thick  blanket  is  very  necessary, 
for  moose-calling  involves  more  hardship  and 
more  suffering  from  cold  than  any  other  branch 
of  the  noble  science  of  hunting  with  which  I  am 
acquainted.  It  is  true  that  the  weather  is  not 
especially  cold  at  that  time  of  year,  but  there  are 
sharp  frosts  occasionally  at  night,  and  the  moose- 
caller  cannot  make  a  fire  by  which  to  warm  himself, 
for  the  smell  of  smoke  is  carried  a  long  way  by  the 
slightest  current  of  air.  Neither  dare  he  run  about 
to  warm  his  feet,  or  flap  his  hands  against  his 
sides,  or  keep  up  the  circulation  by  taking  exercise 
of  any  kind,  for  fear  of  making  a  noise.  He  is  sure 
to  have  got  wet  through  wdth  perspiration  on  his 
way  to  the  calling  place,  which  of  course  makes 
him  more  sensitive  to  cold. 

So  I  and  the  Indian  shouldered  our  packs,  and 
started  for  the  barren,  following  an  old  logging 
road.  Perhaps  I  ought  to  explain  a  little  what  is 
meant  by  a  "  logging  road "  and  a  "  barren." 
A  logging  road  is  a  path  cut  through  the  forest  in 


122  CANADIAN   NIGHTS 

winter,  when  the  snow  is  on  the  ground  and  the 
lakes  are  frozen,  along  which  the  trunks  of  trees 
or  logs  are  hauled  by  horses  or  oxen  to  the  water. 
A  logging  road  is  a  most  pernicious  thing.  Never 
follow  one  if  you  are  lost  in  the  woods,  for  one 
end  is  sure  to  lead  to  a  lake  or  a  river,  which  is 
decidedly  inconvenient  until  the  ice  has  formed  ; 
and  in  the  other  direction  it  will  seduce  you  deep 
into  the  inner  recesses  of  the  forest,  and  then 
come  to  a  sudden  termination  at  some  moss- 
covered  decayed  pine-stump,  which  is  discourag- 
ing. A  "  barren,"  as  the  term  indicates,  is  a 
piece  of  waste  land  ;  but,  as  all  hunting  grounds 
are  waste,  that  definition  would  scarcely  be 
sufficient  to  describe  what  a  "  barren "  is.  It 
means  in  Nova  Scotia  and  New  Brunswick  an 
open  marshy  space  in  the  forest,  sometimes  so 
soft  as  to  be  almost  impassible,  at  other  times 
composed  of  good  solid  hard  peat.  The  surface 
is  occasionally  rough  and  tussocky,  like  a  great 
deal  of  country  in  Scotland. 

In  Newfoundland  there  are  barrens  of  many 
miles  in  extent,  high,  and,  comparatively  speaking, 
dry  plateaux ;  but  the  barrens  in  the  provinces  I 
am  speaking  of  vary  from  a  little  open  space  of  a 
few  aqres  to  a  pl^in  of  five  or  six  miles  in  length 


MOOSE-HUNTING   IN   CANADA      123 

or  breadth.  There  has  been  a  good  deal  of  dis- 
cussion as  to  the  origin  of  these  "  barrens."  It 
appears  to  me  that  they  must  have  been  originally 
lakes  which  have  become  dry  by  the  gradual 
elevation  of  the  land,  and  through  the  natural 
processes  by  which  shallow  waters  become  choked 
up  and  filled  with  vegetable  debris.  They  have 
all  the  appearance  of  dry  lakes.  They  are  about 
the  size  of  the  numerous  sheets  of  water  that  are 
so  frequent  in  the  country.  The  forest  surrounds 
them  completely,  precisely  in  the  same  way  as  it 
does  a  lake,  following  all  the  lines  and  curvatures 
of  the  bays  and  indentations  of  its  shores  ;  and 
every  elevated  spot  of  dry  solid  ground  is  covered 
with  trees  exactly  as  are  the  little  islands  that  so 
thickly  stud  the  surfaces  of  the  Nova  Scotian  lakes. 
Most  of  the  lakes  in  the  country  are  shallow,  and 
in  many  of  them  the  process  by  which  they  become 
filled  up  can  be  seen  at  work.  The  ground  rises 
considerably  in  the  centre  of  these  barrens,  which 
is,  I  believe,  the  case  with  all  bogs  and  peat 
mosses.  I  have  never  measured  any  of  their  areas, 
neither  have  I  attempted  to  estimate  the  extent 
of  the  curvature  of  the  surface ;  but  on  a  barren 
where  I  hunted  last  year,  of  about  two  miles 
across,   the  ground  rose  so  much  in   the  centre 


124  CANADIAN   NIGHTS 

that  when  standing  at  one  edge  we  could  see 
only  the  upper  half  of  the  pine  trees  which  grew 
at  the  other.  The  rise  appeared  to  be  quite 
gradual,  and  the  effect  was  as  if  one  stood  on  an 
exceedingly  small  globe,  the  natural  curvature  of 
which  hid  the  opposite  trees. 

To  return  to  our  calling.  We  got  out  upon  the 
barren,  or  rather  upon  a  deep  bay  or  indentation 
of  a  large  barren,  about  four  o'clock  in  the  after- 
noon, and  made  our  way  to  a  little  wooded  island 
which  afforded  us  shelter  and  dry  ground,  and 
which  was  within  easy  shot  of  one  side  of  the  bay, 
and  so  situated  with  regard  to  the  other  that  a 
moose  coming  from  that  direction  would  not 
hesitate  to  approach  it.  The  first  thing  to  be 
done  is  to  make  a  lair  for  oneself — a  little  bed. 
You  pick  out  a  nice  sheltered  soft  spot,  chop  down 
a  few  sapin  branches  with  your  knife,  gather  a 
quantity  of  dry  grass  or  bracken,  and  make  as 
comfortable  a  bed  as  the  circumstances  of  the 
case  will  permit. 

Having  made  these  little  preparations,  I  sat 
down  and  smoked  my  pipe  while  the  Indian  climbed 
up  a  neighbouring  pine  tree  to  "  call."  The'  only 
object  of  ascending  a  tree  is  that  the  sound  may 
be  carried  further  into  the  recesses  of  the  forest. 


MOOSE-HUNTING   IN   CANADA      125 

The  instrument  wherewith  the  caller  endeavours 
to  imitate  the  cry  of  the  cow  consists  of  a  cone- 
shaped  tube  made  out  of  a  sheet  of  birch  bark 
rolled  up.  This  horn  is  about  eighteen  inches  in 
length  and  three  or  four  in  diameter  at  the  broadest 
end,  the  narrow  end  being  just  large  enough  to  fit 
the  mouth.  The  "  caller  "  uses  it  like  a  speaking- 
trumpet,  groaning  and  roaring  through  it,  imitating 
as  well  as  he  can  the  cry  of  the  cow  moose.  Few 
white  men  can  call  really  well,  but  some  Indians 
by  long  practice  can  imitate  the  animal  with 
wonderful  success.  Fortunately,  however,  no  two 
moose  appear  to  have  precisely  the  same  voice, 
but  make  all  kinds  of  strange  and  diabolical  noises, 
so  that  even  a  novice  in  the  art  may  not  despair  of 
himself  calling  up  a  bull.  The  real  difficulty — 
the  time  when  you  require  a  perfect  mastery  of 
the  art — is  when  the  bull  is  close  by,  suspicious 
and  listening  with  every  fibre  of  its  intensely 
accurate  ear  to  detect  any  sound  that  may  reveal 
the  true  nature  of  the  animal  he  is  approaching. 
The  smallest  hoarseness,  the  slightest  wrong  vibra- 
tion, the  least  unnatural  sound,  will  then  prove 
fatal.  The  Indian  will  kneel  on  the  ground,  putting 
the  broad  end  of  the  horn  close  to  the  earth  so  as 
to  deaden  the  sound,  and  with  an  agonised  expres- 


126  CANADIAN   NIGHTS 

sion  of  countenance  will  imitate  with  such  mar- 
vellous fidelity  the  wailing,  anxious,  supplicating 
cry  of  the  cow,  that  the  bull,  unable  to  resist, 
rushes  out  from  the  friendly  cover  of  the  trees,  and 
exposes  himself  to  death.  Or  it  may  be  that  the 
most  accomplished  caller  fails  to  induce  the  sus- 
picious animal  to  show  himself  :  the  more  ignoble 
passion  of  jealousy  must  then  be  aroused.  The 
Indian  will  grunt  like  an  enraged  bull,  break  dead 
branches  from  the  trees,  thrash  his  birch-bark  horn 
against  the  bushes,  thus  making  a  noise  exactly  like 
a  moose  fighting  the  bushes  with  his  antlers.  The 
bull  cannot  bear  the  idea  of  a  rival,  and,  casting  his 
prudence  to  the  winds,  not  unfrequently  falls  a 
victim  to  jealousy  and  rage. 

The  hunter  calls  through  his  horn,  first  gently, 
in  case  there  should  be  a  bull  very  near.  He  then 
waits  a  quarter  of  an  hour  or  so,  and,  if  he  gets  no 
answer,  calls  again  a  little  louder,  waiting  at  least  a 
quarter  of  an  hour — or  half  an  hour  some  Indians 
say  is  best — after  each  attempt. 

The  cry  of  the  cow  is  a  long-drawn-out  melan- 
choly sound,  impossible  to  describe  by  words.  The 
answer  of  the  bull  moose,  on  the  contrary,  is  a 
rather  short  guttural  grunt,  and  resembles  at  a 
great  distance  the  sound  made  by  an  axe  chopping 


MOOSE-HUNTING   IN   CANADA      127 

wood,  or  that  which  a  man  makes  when  pulling 
hard  at  a  refractory  clay  pipe.  You  continue  call- 
ing at  intervals  until  you  hear  an  answer,  when 
your  tactics  depend  upon  the  way  in  which  the 
animal  acts.  Great  acuteness  of  the  sense  of  hear- 
ing is  necessary,  because  the  bull  will  occasion- 
ally come  up  without  answering  at  all ;  and  the 
first  indication  of  his  presence  consists  of  the  slight 
noise  he  makes  in  advancing.  Sometimes  a  bull 
will  come  up  with  the  most  extreme  caution  ;  at 
others  he  will  come  tearing  up  through  the  woods, 
as  hard  as  he  can  go,  making  a  noise  like  a  steam- 
engine,  and  rushing  through  the  forest  apparently 
without  the  slightest  fear. 

On  the  particular  occasion  which  I  am  recalling, 
it  was  a  most  lovely  evening.  It  wanted  but  about 
half  an  hour  to  sundown,  and  all  was  perfectly 
still.  There  was  not  the  slightest  sound  of  anything 
moving  in  the  forest  except  that  of  the  unfrequent 
flight  of  a  moose-bird  close  by.  And  so  I  sat  watch- 
ing that  most  glorious  transformation  scene — the 
change  of  day  into  night ;  saw  the  great  sun  sink 
slowly  down  behind  the  pine  trees  ;  saw  the  few 
clouds  that  hovered  motionless  above  me  blaze 
into  the  colour  of  bright  burnished  gold ;  saw  the 
whole   atmosphere   become   glorious   with    a    soft 


128  CANADIAN   NIGHTS 

yellow  light,  gradually  dying  out  as  the  night  crept 
on,  till  only  in  the  western  sky  there  lingered  a 
faint  glow  fading  into  a  pale  cold  apple-green, 
against  which  the  pines  stood  out  as  black  as  mid- 
night, and  as  sharply  defined  as  though  cut  out  of 
steel.  As  the  darkness  deepened,  a  young  crescent 
moon  shone  out  pale  and  clear,  with  a  glittering 
star  a  little  below  the  lower  horn,  and  above  her 
another  star  of  lesser  magnitude.  It  looked  as 
though  a  supernatural  jewel — a  heavenly  pendant, 
two  great  diamond  solitaires,  and  a  diamond  cres- 
cent— were  hanging  in  the  western  sky.  After  a 
while,  the  moon  too  sank  behind  the  trees,  and 
darkness  fell  upon  the  earth. 

I  know  of  nothing  more  enchanting  than  a  per- 
fectly calm  and  silent  autumnal  sunset  in  the  woods, 
unless  it  be  the  sunrise,  which  to  my  mind  is  more 
lovely  still.  Sunset  is  beautiful,  but  sad  ;  sunrise 
is  equally  beautiful,  and  full  of  life,  happiness,  and 
hope.  I  love  to  watch  the  stars  begin  to  fade,  to 
see  the  first  faint  white  light  clear  up  the  darkness 
of  the  eastern  sky,  and  gradually  deepen  into  the 
glorious  colouring  that  heralds  the  approaching 
sun.  I  love  to  see  nature  awake  shuddering, 
as  she  always  does,  and  arouse  herself  into 
active,    busy    life ;     to    note    the    insects,    birds, 


MOOSE-HUNTING   IN   CANADA      129 

and  beasts  shake  off  slumber  and  set  about  their 
daily  tasks. 

Still,  the  sunset  is  inexpressibly  lovely,  and  I 
do  not  envy  the  condition  and  frame  of  mind  of  a 
man  who  cannot  be  as  nearly  happy  as  man  can  be, 
when  he  is  lying  comfortably  on  a  luxurious  and 
soft  couch,  gazing  in  perfect  peace  on  the  glorious 
scene  around  him,  rejoicing  all  his  senses,  and 
saturating  himself  with  the  wonderful  beauties  of 
a  northern  sunset. 

So  I  sat  quietly  below,  while  the  Indian  called 
from  the  tree- top.  Not  a  sound  answered  to  the 
three  or  four  long-drawn-out  notes  with  which  he 
hoped  to  lure  the  bull ;  after  a  long  interval  he  called 
again,  but  the  same  perfect,  utter  silence  reigned 
in  the  woods,  a  silence  broken  only  by  the  melan- 
choly hooting  of  an  owl,  or  the  imaginary  noises 
that  filled  my  head.  It  is  extraordinary  how  small 
noises  become  magnified  when  the  ear  is  kept  at  a 
great  tension  for  any  length  of  time,  and  how 
the  head  becomes  filled  with  all  kinds  of  fictitious 
sounds  ;  and  it  is  very  remarkable  also  how  utterly 
impossible  it  is  to  distinguish  between  a  loud  noise 
uttered  at  a  distance  and  a  scarcely  audible  sound 
close  by.  After  listening  very  intently  amidst  the 
profound  silence  of  a  quiet  night  in  the  forest  for 


I30  CANADIAN   NIGHTS 

an  hour  or  so,  the  head  becomes  so  surcharged 
with  blood,  owing,  I  presume,  to  all  the  faculties 
being  concentrated  on  a  single  sense,  that  one 
seems  to  hear  distant  voices,  the  ringing  of  bells, 
and  all  kinds  of  strange  and  impossible  noises.  A 
man  becomes  so  nervously  alive  to  the  slightest 
disturbance  of  the  almost  awful  silence  of  a  still 
night  in  the  woods,  that  the  faintest  sound — the 
cracking  of  a  minute  twig,  or  the  fall  of  a  leaf,  even 
at  a  great  distance — will  make  him  almost  jump  out 
of  his  skin.  He  is  also  apt  to  make  the  most  ludi- 
crous mistakes.  Towards  morning,  about  day- 
break, I  have  frequently  mistaken  the  first  faint 
buzz  of  some  minute  fly,  within  a  foot  or  so  of  my 
ear,  for  the  call  of  moose  two  or  three  miles  off. 

About  ten  o'clock  the  Indian  gave  it  up  in  de- 
spair and  came  down  the  tree  ;  we  rolled  ourselves 
up  in  our  rugs,  pulled  the  hoods  of  our  blanket 
coats  over  our  heads,  and  went  to  sleep.  I  awoke 
literally  shaking  with  cold.  It  was  still  the  dead 
of  night ;  and  the  stars  were  shining  with  intense 
brilliancy,  to  my  great  disappointment,  for  I  was 
in  hopes  of  seeing  the  first  streaks  of  dawn.  It  was 
freezing  very  hard,  far  too  hard  for  me  to  think  of 
going  to  sleep  again.  So  I  roused  the  Indian  and 
suggested  that  he  should  try  another  call  or  two. 


MOOSE-HUNTING    IN   CANADA      131 

Accordingly  we  stole  down  to  the  edge  of  the 
little  point  of  wood  in  which  we  had  ensconced 
ourselves,  and  in  a  few  minutes  the  forest  was  re- 
echoing the  plaintive  notes  of  the  moose.  Not  an 
answer,  not  a  sound — utter  silence,  as  if  all  the 
world  were  dead  !  broken  suddenly  and  horribly 
by  a  yell  that  made  the  blood  curdle  in  one's  veins. 
It  was  the  long,  quavering,  human,  but  unearthly 
scream  of  a  loon  on  the  distant  lake.  After  what 
seemed  to  me  many  hours,  but  what  was  in  reality 
but  a  short  time,  the  first  indications  of  davm  re- 
vealed themselves  in  the  rising  of  the  morning  star, 
and  the  slightest  possible  paling  of  the  eastern  sky. 
The  cold  grew  almost  unbearable.  That  curious 
shiver  that  runs  through  nature — the  first  icy 
current  of  air  that  precedes  the  day — chilled  us  to 
the  bones.  I  rolled  myself  up  in  my  blanket  and 
lighted  a  pipe,  trying  to  retain  what  little  caloric 
remained  in  my  body,  while  the  Indian  again 
ascended  the  tree.  By  the  time  he  had  called  twdce 
it  was  grey  dawn.  Birds  were  beginning  to  move 
about,  and  busy  squirrels  to  look  out  for  their 
breakfast  of  pine-buds.  I  sat  listening  intently, 
and  watching  the  blank  emotionless  face  of  the 
Indian  as  he  gazed  around  him,  when  suddenly  I 
saw  his  countenance  blaze  up  with  vivid  excite- 


132  CANADIAN    NIGHTS 

ment.  His  eyes  seemed  to  start  from  his  head,  his 
muscles  twitched,  his  face  glowed,  he  seemed  trans- 
formed in  a  moment  into  a  different  being.  At 
the  same  time  he  began  with  the  utmost  celerity, 
but  with  extreme  caution,  to  descend  to  the  ground. 
He  motioned  me  not  to  make  any  noise,  and  whis- 
pered that  a  moose  was  coming  across  the  barren 
and  must  be  close  by.  Grasping  my  rifle,  we 
crawled  carefully  through  the  grass,  crisp  and 
noisy  with  frost,  down  to  the  edge  of  our  island  of 
woods,  and  there,  after  peering  cautiously  around 
some  stunted  juniper  bushes,  I  saw  standing, 
about  sixty  yards  off,  a  bull  moose.  He  looked 
gigantic  in  the  thin  morning  mist  which  was  be- 
ginning to  drift  up  from  the  surface  of  the  barren. 
Great  volumes  of  steam  issued  from  his  nostrils, 
and  his  whole  aspect,  looming  in  the  fog,  was  vast 
and  almost  terrific.  He  stood  there  perfectly 
motionless,  staring  at  the  spot  from  which  he  had 
heard  the  cry  of  the  supposed  cow,  irresolute 
whether  to  come  on  or  not.  The  Indian  was 
anxious  to  bring  him  a  little  closer,  but  I  did  not 
wish  to  run  the  risk  of  scaring  him,  and  so,  taking 
aim.  as  fairly  as  I  could,  considering  I  was  shaking 
all  over  with  cold,  I  fired  and  struck  him  behind 
the  shoulder.     He  plunged  forward  on  his  knees, 


MOOSE-HUNTING   IN   CANADA      133 

jumped  up,  rushed  forward  for  about  two  hundred 
yards,  and  then  fell  dead  at  the  edge  of  the  heavy- 
timber  on  the  far  side  of  the  barren. 

We  went  to  work  then  and  there  to  skin  and 
clean  him,  an  operation  which  probably  took  us  an 
hour  or  more,  and,  having  rested  ourselves  a  few 
minutes,  we  started  off  to  take  a  little  cruise  round 
the  edge  of  the  barren  and  see  if  there  were  any 
caribou  on  it.  I  should  explain  that  "  cruising  " 
is  in  the  provinces  performed  on  land  as  well  as  at 
sea.  A  man  says  he  has  spent  all  summer  "  cruis- 
ing "  the  woods  in  search  of  pine  timber,  and  if  your 
Indian  wants  you  to  go  out  for  a  walk,  he  will 
say,  "  Let  us  take  a  cruise  around  somewhere." 
Accordingly,  we  trudged  off  over  the  soft  yielding 
surface  of  the  bog,  and,  taking  advantage  of  some 
stunted  bushes,  crossed  to  the  opposite  side,  so  as 
to  be  well  down  wind  in  case  any  animals  should  be 
on  it.  The  Indian  then  ascended  to  the  top  of  the 
highest  pine-tree  he  could  find,  taking  my  glasses 
with  him,  and  had  a  good  look  all  over  the  barren. 
There  was  not  a  thing  to  be  seen.  We  then  passed 
through  a  small  strip  of  wood,  and  came  out  upon 
another  plain,  and  there,  on  ascending  a  tree  to 
look  round,  the  Indian  espied  two  caribou  feeding 
towards  the  timber.     We  had  to  wait  some  little 


134  CANADIAN   NIGHTS 

time  till  they  got  behind  an  island  of  trees,  and  then, 
running  as  fast  as  the  soft  nature  of  the  ground 
would  permit,  we  contrived  to  get  close  up  to  them 
just  as  they  entered  the  thick  woods,  and,  after  an 
exciting  stalk  of  about  half  an  hour,  I  managed  to 
kill  both. 

Having  performed  the  obsequies  of  the  chase 
upon  the  two  caribou,  we  returned  to  our  calling- 
place.  By  this  time  it  was  about  noon  :  the  sun 
was  blazing  down  with  almost  tropical  heat.  We 
had  been  awake  the  greater  part  of  the  night,  and 
had  done  a  hard  morning's  work,  and  felt  a  decided 
need  for  refreshment.  In  a  few  minutes  we  had 
lighted  a  little  fire,  put  the  kettle  on  to  boil,  and  set 
the  moose  kidneys,  impaled  on  sharp  sticks,  to 
roast  by  the  fire ;  and  with  fresh  kidneys,  good 
strong  tea,  plenty  of  sugar  and  salt,  and  some  hard 
biscuit,  I  made  one  of  the  most  sumptuous  break- 
fasts it  has  been  my  lot  to  assist  at. 

Breakfast  over,  I  told  the  Indian  to  go  down  to 
camp  and  bring  up  the  other  men  to  assist  in  cutting 
up  and  smoking  the  meat.  As  soon  as  he  had  de- 
parted I  laid  myself  out  for  a  rest.  I  shifted  my 
bed — that  is  to  say,  my  heap  of  dried  bracken  and 
pine  tops — under  the  shadow  of  a  pine,  spread  my 
blanket  out,  and  lay  down  to  smoke  a  pipe  of  peace 


MOOSE-HUNTING    IN    CANADA     135 

in  the  most  contented  frame  of  mind  that  a  man 
can  ever  hope  to  enjoy  in  this  uneasy  and  trouble- 
some world.  I  had  suffered  from  cold  and  from 
hunger — I  was  now  warm  and  well  fed.  I  was  tired 
after  a  hard  day's  work  and  long  night's  vigil,  and 
was  thoroughly  capable  of  enjoying  that  greatest  of 
all  luxuries — sweet  repose  after  severe  exercise.  The 
day  was  so  warm  that  the  shade  of  the  trees  fell 
cool  and  grateful,  and  I  lay  flat  on  my  back,  smok- 
ing my  pipe,  and  gazing  up  through  the  branches 
into  a  perfectly  clear,  blue  sky,  with  occasionally  a 
little  white  cloud  like  a  bit  of  swansdown  floating 
across  it,  and  felt,  as  I  had  often  felt  before,  that 
no  luxury  of  civilisation  can  at  all  compare  with  the 
comfort  a  man  can  obtain  in  the  wilderness.  I  lay 
smoking  till  I  dropped  off  to  sleep,  and  slept  soundly 
until  the  men  coming  up  from  camp  awoke  me. 

Such  is  a  pretty  fair  sample  of  a  good  day's 
sport.  It  was  not  a  very  exciting  day,  and  I  have 
alluded  to  it  chiefly  because  the  incidents  are 
fresh  in  my  mind.  The  great  interest  of  moose- 
calling  comes  in  when  a  bull  answers  early  in  the 
evening,  and  will  not  come  up  boldly,  and  you 
and  the  bull  spend  the  whole  night  trying  to 
outwit  each  other.  Sometimes,  just  when  you 
think   you    have    succeeded    in    deceiving    him,    a 


136  CANADIAN   NIGHTS 

little  air  of  wind  will  spring  up  ;  he  will  get  scent 
of  you,  and  be  off  in  a  second.  Sometimes  a  bull 
will  answer  at  intervals  for  several  hours,  will 
come  up  to  the  edge  of  the  open  ground,  and 
there  stop  and  cease  speaking.  You  wait,  anxiously- 
watching  for  him  all  night,  and  in  the  morning, 
when  you  examine  the  ground,  you  find  that 
something  had  scared  him,  and  that  he  had 
silently  made  oif,  so  silently  that  his  departure 
was  unnoticed.  It  is  marvellous  how  so  great 
and  heavy  a  creature  can  move  through  the  woods 
without  making  the  smallest  sound ;  but  he  can 
do  so,  and  does,  to  the  great  confusion  of  the 
hunter. 

Sometimes  another  bull  appears  upon  the  scene, 
and  a  frightful  battle  ensues  ;  or  a  cow  will  com- 
mence calling  and  rob  you  of  your  prey ;  or  you 
may  get  an  answer  or  two  in  the  evening,  and 
then  hear  nothing  for  several  hours,  and  go  to 
sleep  and  awake  in  the  morning  to  find  that  the 
bull  had  walked  calmly  up  within  ten  yards  of 
you.  Very  frequently  you  may  leave  camp  on  a 
perfectly  clear,  fine  afternoon,  when  suddenly  a 
change  will  come  on,  and  you  may  have  to  pass 
a  long  dreary  night  on  some  bare  and  naked  spot 
of  ground,  exposed  to  the  pitiless  pelting  of  the 


MOOSE-HUNTING   IN   CANADA      137 

storm.  One  such  night  I  well  remember  last  fall. 
It  rained,  and  thundered,  and  blew  the  whole 
time  from  about  eight  o'clock,  until  daylight  at 
last  gave  us  a  chance  of  dragging  our  chilled  and 
benumbed  bodies  back  to  camp.  Fortunately- 
such  exposure,  though  unpleasant,  never  does  one 
any  harm  in  the  wilderness. 

Occasionally  a  moose  will  answer,  but  nothing 
will  induce  him  to  come  up,  and  in  the  morn- 
ing, if  there  is  a  little  wind,  you  can  resort  to  the 
only  other  legitimate  way  of  hunting  the  moose, 
namely,  "  creeping,"  or  "  still  hunting,"  as  it 
would  be  termed  in  the  States,  which  is  as  nearly 
as  possible  equivalent  to  ordinary  deerstalking. 

After  the  rutting  season  the  moose  begin  to 
"  yard,"  as  it  is  termed.  I  have  seen  pictures  of 
a  moose-yard  in  which  numbers  of  animals  are 
represented  inside  and  surrounded  by  a  barrier 
of  snow,  on  the  outside  of  which  baffled  packs  of 
wolves  are  clamorously  howling  ;  and  I  have  seen 
a  moose-yard  so  described  in  print  as  to  make  it 
appear  that  a  number  of  moose  herd  together 
and  keep  tramping  and  tramping  in  the  snow  to 
such  an  extent  that  by  mid-winter  they  find 
themselves  in  what  is  literally  a  yard — a  hollow 
bare  place,  surrounded  by  deep  snow.     Of  course 


138  CANADIAN   NIGHTS 

such  a  definition  is  utterly  absurd.  A  moose  does 
not  travel  straight  on  when  he  is  in  search  of  food, 
but  selects  a  particular  locality,  and  remains  there 
as  long  as  the  supply  of  provisions  holds  out ; 
and  that  place  is  called  a  yard. 

Sometimes  a  solitary  moose  "  yards "  alone, 
sometimes  two  or  three  together,  occasionally  as 
many  as  half  a  dozen  may  be  found  congregated 
in  one  place.  When  a  man  says  he  has  found  a 
"  moose-yard,"  he  means  that  he  has  come  across 
a  place  where  it  is  evident  from  the  tracks  crossing 
and  recrossing  and  intersecting  each  other  in  all 
directions,  and  from  the  signs  of  browsing  on  the 
trees,  that  one  or  more  moose  have  settled  down 
to  feed  for  the  winter.  Having  once  selected  a 
place  or  "  yard,"  the  moose  will  remain  there  till 
the  following  summer  if  the  food  holds  out,  and 
they  are  not  disturbed  by  man.  If  forced  to  leave 
their  "  yard,"  they  will  travel  a  long  distance — 
twenty  or  thirty  miles — before  choosing  another 
feeding-ground.  After  the  rutting  season  moose 
wander  about  in  an  uneasy  state  of  mind  for  three 
weeks  or  so,  and  are  not  all  settled  down  till  the 
beginning  of  November. 

In  "  creeping,"  therefore,  or  stalking  moose,  the 
first  thing  to  be  done  is  to  find  a  moose-yard. 


MOOSE-HUNTING   IN   CANADA     139 

You  set  out  early  in  the  morning,  in  any  direction 
you  may  think  advisable,  according  to  the  way  the 
wind  blows,  examining  carefully  all  the  tracks  that 
you  come  across.  When  you  hit  upon  a  track, 
you  follow  it  a  little  way,  examining  it  and  the 
ground  and  trees,  to  see  if  the  animal  is  travelling 
or  not.  If  you  find  that  the  moose  has  "  yarded," 
that  is  to  say,  fed,  and  you  can  come  across  evi- 
dences of  his  presence  not  more  than  a  couple  of 
days  or  so  old,  you  make  up  your  mind  to  hunt 
that  particular  moose. 

The  utmost  caution  and  skill  are  necessary. 
The  moose  invariably  travels  down  wind  some 
little  distance  before  beginning  to  feed,  and  then 
works  his  way  up,  browsing  about  at  will  in  various 
directions.  He  also  makes  a  circle  down  wind 
before  lying  down,  so  that,  if  you  hit  on  a  fresh 
track  and  then  follow  it,  you  are  perfectly  certain 
to  start  the  animal  without  seeing  him.  You  may 
follow  a  moose  track  a  whole  day,  as  I  have  done 
before  now,  and  finally  come  across  the  place  where 
you  started  him,  and  then  discover  that  you  had 
passed  within  fifty  yards  of  that  spot  early  in  the 
morning,  the  animal  having  made  a  large  circuit 
and  lain  down  close  to  his  tracks.  The  principle, 
therefore,  that  the  hunter  has  to  go  upon  is,  to 


140  CANADIAN   NIGHTS 

keep  making  small  semicircles  down  wind  so  as  to 
constantly  cut  the  tracks  and  yet  keep  the  animal 
always  to  windward  of  him.  Having  come  across 
a  track  and  made  up  your  mind  whether  it  is 
pretty  fresh,  whether  the  beast  is  a  large  one 
worth  following,  and  whether  it  is  settled  down 
and  feeding  quietly,  you  will  not  follow  the  track, 
but  go  down  wind  and  then  gradually  work  up 
wind  again  till  you  cut  the  tracks  a  second  time. 
Then  you  must  make  out  whether  the  tracks  are 
fresher  or  older  than  the  former,  whether  they 
are  tracks  of  the  same  moose  or  those  of  another, 
and  leave  them  again  and  work  up,  and  cut  them 
a  third  time ;  and  so  you  go  on  gradually,  always 
trimming  down  wind  and  edging  up  wind  again, 
until,  finally,  you  have  quartered  the  whole 
ground. 

Perhaps  the  moose  is  feeding  upon  a  hardwood 
ridge  of  beech  and  maples  of,  say,  two  or  three 
miles  in  length  and  a  quarter  of  a  mile  in  width. 
Every  square  yard  you  must  make  good  in  the  way 
I  have  endeavoured  to  describe,  before  you  pro- 
ceed to  go  up  to  the  moose.  At  length,  by  dint 
of  great  perseverance  and  caution,  you  will  have 
so  far  covered  the  ground  that  you  will  know  the 
animal  must  be  in   some  particular  spot.     Then 


MOOSE-HUNTING   IN   CANADA      141 

comes  the  difficult  moment.     I  may  say  at  once 
that  it  is  mere  waste  of  time  trying  to  creep  except 
on  a  windy  day,  even  with  moccasins  on  ;    and  it 
is  of  no  use  at  any  time  trying  to  creep  a  moose 
unless  you  are  provided  with  soft  leather  mocca- 
sins.    No  human  being  can  get  within  shot  of  a 
moose  on  a  still  day  :  the  best  time  is  when  windy 
weather  succeeds  a  heavy  fall  of  rain.    Then  the 
ground  is  soft,  the  little  twigs  strewed  about  bend 
instead  of  breaking,  and  the  noise  of  the  wind  in 
the  trees   deadens   the  sound  of  your  footsteps. 
If  the  ground  is  dry,  and  there  is  not  much  wind, 
it  is  impossible  to  get  near  the  game.    When  you 
have   determined   that    the   moose   is   somewhere 
handy — when    you    come    across    perfectly    fresh 
indications  of  his  presence — you  proceed  inch  by 
inch ;  you  must  not  make  the  smallest  noise ;  the 
least  crack  of  a  dead  branch  or  of  a  stick  under 
foot    will    start    the    animal.     Especially    careful 
must  you  be  that  nothing  taps  against  your  gun- 
stock,  or  that  you  do  not  strike  the  barrel  against 
a  tree,  for,  naturally,  any  such  unusual  sound  is 
far  worse  than  the  cracking  of  a  stick.     If,  how- 
ever,   you    succeed    in    imitating    the    noiseless 
movements  and  footsteps  of  your  Indian,  you  will 
probably    be    rewarded    by    seeing    him    presently 


142  CANADIAN   NIGHTS 

make  a  "  point "  like  a  pointer  dog.  Every 
quivering  fibre  in  his  body  proves  his  excitement. 
He  v^U  point  out  something  dark  to  you  among 
the  trees.  That  dark  mass  is  a  moose,  and  you 
must  fire  at  it  without  being  too  careful  v^hat  part 
of  the  animal  you  are  going  to  hit,  for  probably 
the  moose  has  heard  you  and  is  only  w^aiting  a 
second  before  making  up  his  mind  to  be  off. 

Generally  speaking,  the  second  man  sees  the 
moose  first.  The  leader  is  too  much  occupied  in 
looking  at  the  tracks — in  seeing  v^here  he  is  going 
to  put  his  foot  down.  The  second  man  has  only 
to  tread  carefully  in  the  footsteps  of  the  man 
preceding  him,  and  is  able  to  concentrate  his 
attention  more  on  looking  about.  The  moment 
you  spy  or  hear  the  animal  you  should  imitate  the 
call  of  a  moose — first  to  attract  the  attention  of 
the  animal,  which,  if  it  has  not  smelt  you,  will 
probably  stop  a  second  to  make  sure  what  it  is 
that  has  frightened  him ;  secondly,  to  let  the 
Indian  in  front  know  that  the  game  is  on  foot. 
Moose-creeping  is  an  exceedingly  difficult  and 
exciting  pastime.  It  requires  all  a  man's  patience, 
for,  of  course,  you  may  travel  day  after  day  in  this 
way  without  finding  any  traces  of  deer.  To  the 
novice  it  is  not  interesting,  for,   apparently,  the 


MOOSE-HUNTING    IN   CANADA     143 

Indian  wanders  aimlessly  about  the  woods  without 
any  particular  object.  When  you  come  to  under- 
stand the  motive  for  every  twist  and  turn  he 
makes,  and  appreciate  the  science  he  is  displaying, 
it  becomes  one  of  the  most  fascinating  pursuits 
in  which  the  sportsman  can  indulge. 

Sometimes  one  may  be  in  good  luck  and  come 
across  a  moose  in  some  glade  or  "  interval,"  the 
result  of  the  labours  of  former  generations  of 
beavers.  An  "  interval "  is  the  local  term  for 
natural  meadows,  which  are  frequently  found 
along  the  margins  of  streams.  Beavers  have  done 
great  and  useful  work  in  all  these  countries.  The 
evidences  of  their  labours  have  far  outlived  the 
work  of  aboriginal  man.  They  dam  up  little 
streams  and  form  shallow  lakes  and  ponds.  Trees 
fall  in  and  decay ;  the  ponds  get  choked  with 
vegetation,  fill  up,  and  are  turned  into  natural 
meadows  of  great  value  to  the  settler.  Beavers 
have  played  an  important  part  in  rendering  these 
savage  countries  fit  for  the  habitation  of  civilised 
man. 

The  moose  may  also  be  run  down  in  winter 
time  on  snow-shoes.  This  may  be  called  partly 
a  legitimate,  and  partly  an  illegitimate,  mode  of 
killing  the  animal.     If  the  snow  is  not  very  deep, 


144  CANADIAN   NIGHTS 

the  moose  can  travel,  and  to  come  up  with  him 
requires  immense  endurance  on  the  part  of  a  man, 
but  no  skill  except  that  involved  in  the  art  of 
running  on  snow-shoes.  You  simply  start  the 
animal  and  follow  after  him  for  a  day,  or  some- 
times two  or  three  days,  when  you  come  up  with 
him  and  walk  as  close  as  you  like  and  shoot  him. 

If  the  snow  lies  very  deep  in  early  spring,  moose 
may  be  slaughtered  with  ease.  The  sun  thaws  the 
surface,  which  freezes  up  again  at  night  and  forms 
an  icy  crust  strong  enough  to  support  a  man  on 
snow-shoes,  or  a  dog,  but  not  nearly  strong  enough 
to  support  a  moose.  Then  they  can  be  run  down 
vdthout  trouble.  You  find  your  moose  and  start 
a  dog  after  him.  The  unfortunate  moose  flounders 
helplessly  in  the  snow,  cutting  his  legs  to  pieces, 
and  in  a  very  short  time  becomes  exhausted,  and 
you  can  walk  up  to  him,  knock  him  on  the  head 
with  an  axe,  or  stick  him  with  a  knife,  as  you  think 
best.  Hundreds  and  hundreds  of  moose  have  been 
slaughtered  in  this  scandalous  manner  for  their 
hides  alone.  The  settlers  also  dig  pits  for  them 
and  snare  them,  both  of  which  practices,  I  need 
hardly  say,  are  most  nefarious.  There  is  nothing 
sportsmanlike  about  them,  and  they  involve  waste 
of  good  meat,  because,  unless  a  man  looks  to  the 


MOOSE-HUNTING   IN   CANADA      145 

snare  every  day  (which  these  men  never  do),  he 
runs  the  chance  of  catching  a  moose  and  finding 
the  carcass  unfit  for  food  when  he  revisits  the 
place.  I  shall  not  describe  the  method  of  snaring 
a  moose,  for  fear  some  of  you  gentlemen  might  be 
tempted  to  practise  it,  or  lest  it  might  be  supposed 
for  a  moment  that  I  had  ever  done  such  a  wicked 
thing  myself. 

Many  men  prefer  caribou-hunting  to  moose- 
hunting,  and  I  am  not  sure  that  they  are  not  right. 
The  American  caribou  is,  I  believe,  identical  with 
the  reindeer  of  Europe,  though  the  American 
animal  grows  to  a  much  larger  size  and  the  males 
carry  far  finer  horns.  The  does  have  small  horns 
also.  I  believe  the  caribou  is  the  only  species  of 
deer  marked  by  that  peculiarity.  Caribou  are  very 
fond  of  getting  out  on  the  lakes  as  soon  as  the  ice 
wall  bear,  and  feeding  round  the  shores.  They 
feed  entirely  on  moss  and  lichens,  principally  on  the 
long  grey  moss,  locally  known  as  "  old  men's 
beards,"  which  hangs  in  graceful  festoons  from  the 
branches  of  the  pines,  and  on  the  beautiful  purple 
and  cream-coloured  caribou-moss  that  covers  the 
barrens.  They  are  not  very  shy  animals,  and  will 
venture  close  to  lumber  camps  to  feed  on  the  moss 
which  grows  most  luxuriantly  on  the  tops  of  the 


146  CANADIAN   NIGHTS 

pines  which  the  axe-men  have  felled.  Caribou  can- 
not be  run  down,  and  the  settlers  rarely  go  after 
them.  They  must  be  stalked  on  the  barrens  and 
lakes,  or  crept  up  to  in  the  woods,  precisely  in  the 
same  manner  as  the  moose. 

Such  is  a  brief  outline  of  some  Canadian  sports. 
Life  in  the  woods  need  not  be  devoted  entirely  to 
hunting,  but  can  be  varied  to  a  great  extent  by 
fishing  and  trapping.  The  streams  and  lakes  teem 
with  trout,  and  the  finest  salmon-fishing  in  the 
world  is  to  be  found  in  New  Brunswick  and  on  the 
north  shore  of  the  gulf.  In  Lower  Canada  there 
is  still  a  good  deal  of  fur  to  be  found.  In  New 
Brunswick  and  Nova  Scotia  beavers  are  almost 
extinct,  and  marten,  mink,  lynx,  otter,  and  other 
valuable  fur-bearing  animals  are  comparatively 
scarce.  It  would  be  hard,  I  think,  for  a  man  to 
spend  a  holiday  more  pleasantly  and  beneficially 
than  in  the  Canadian  woods.  Hunting  leads  him 
into  beautiful  scenery  ;  his  method  of  life  induces 
a  due  contemplation  of  nature,  and  tends  to  whole- 
some thought.  He  has  not  much  opportunity  for 
improving  his  mind  with  literature,  but  he  can 
read  out  of  the  great  book  of  Nature  and  find  "  books 
in  the  running  brooks,  sermons  in  stones,  and  good 
in  everything."     If  he  has  his  eyes  and  ears  open. 


MOOSE-HUNTING   IN   CANADA     147 

he  cannot  fail  to  take  notice  of  many  interesting 
circumstances  and  phenomena ;  and  if  he  has  any 
knowledge  of  natural  history,  every  moment  of  the 
day  must  be  suggesting  something  new  and  inter- 
esting to  him.  A  strange  scene,  for  example, 
which  once  came  within  my  observation,  com- 
pletely puzzled  me  at  the  time,  and  has  done  so 
ever  since.  I  was  in  Nova  Scotia  in  the  fall,  when 
one  day  my  Indian  told  me  that  in  a  lake  close  by 
all  the  rocks  were  moving  out  of  the  water,  a  cir- 
cumstance which  I  thought  not  a  little  strange. 
However,  I  went  to  look  at  the  unheard-of  spec- 
tacle, and  sure  enough  there  were  the  rocks  appar- 
ently all  moving  out  of  the  water  on  to  dry  land. 
The  lake  is  of  considerable  extent,  but  shallow,  and 
full  of  great  masses  of  rock.  Many  of  these  masses 
appear  to  have  travelled  right  out  of  the  lake,  and 
are  now  high  and  dry,  some  fifteen  yards  above  the 
margin  of  the  water.  They  have  ploughed  deep 
and  regularly  defined  channels  for  themselves. 
You  may  see  them  of  all  sizes,  from  blocks  of,  say, 
roughly  speaking,  six  or  eight  feet  in  diameter, 
down  to  stones  which  a  man  could  lift.  Moreover, 
you  find  them  in  various  stages  of  progress,  some 
a  hundred  yards  or  more  from  shore  and  apparently 
just  beginning  to  move ;  others  half-way  to  their 


148  CANADIAN   NIGHTS 

destination,  and  others  again,  as  I  have  said,  high 
and  dry  above  the  water.  In  all  cases  there  is  a 
distinct  groove  or  furrow  which  the  rock  has  clearly 
ploughed  for  itself.  I  noticed  one  particularly 
good  specimen,  an  enormous  block  which  lay  some 
yards  above  high-water  mark.  The  earth  and 
stones  were  heaped  up  in  front  of  it  to  a  height  of 
three  or  four  feet.  There  was  a  deep  furrow,  the 
exact  breadth  of  the  block,  leading  down  directly 
from  it  into  the  lake,  and  extending  till  it  was 
hidden  from  my  sight  by  the  depth  of  the  water. 
Loose  stones  and  pebbles  were  piled  up  on  each 
side  of  this  groove  in  a  regular  clearly  defined  line. 
I  thought  at  first  that  from  some  cause  or  other  the 
smaller  stones,  pebbles,  and  sand  had  been  dragged 
down  from  above,  and  consequently  had  piled 
themselves  up  in  front  of  all  the  large  rocks  too 
heavy  to  be  moved,  and  had  left  a  vacant  space  or 
furrow  behind  the  rocks.  But  if  that  had  been  the 
case,  the  drift  of  moving  material  would  of  course 
have  joined  together  again  in  the  space  of  a  few 
yards  behind  the  fixed  rocks.  On  the  contrary, 
these  grooves  or  furrows  remained  the  same  width 
throughout  their  entire  length,  and  have,  I  think, 
undoubtedly  been  caused  by  the  rock  forcing  its 
way  up  through  the  loose  shingle  and  stones  which 


MOOSE-HUNTING    IN    CANADA      149 

compose  the  bed  of  the  lake.  What  power  has  set 
these  rocks  in  motion  it  is  difficult  to  decide.  The 
action  of  ice  is  the  only  thing  that  might  explain 
it ;  but  how  ice  could  exert  itself  in  that  special 
manner,  and  why,  if  ice  is  the  cause  of  it,  it  does 
not  manifest  that  tendency  in  every  lake  in  every 
part  of  the  world,  I  do  not  pretend  to  comprehend. 

My  attention  having  been  once  directed  to  this, 
I  noticed  it  in  various  other  lakes.  Unfortunately 
my  Indian  only  mentioned  it  to  me  a  day  or  two 
before  I  left  the  woods.  I  had  not  time,  therefore, 
to  make  any  accurate  investigation  into  the  sub- 
ject. I  have  mentioned  this  extraordinary  phen- 
omenon to  geologists  and  other  scientific  men, 
but  have  never  been  given  any  satisfactory  explana- 
tion of  it.  In  fact,  the  usual  explanation  was  an 
assurance  in  polite  language  that  I  was  a  liar. 
Scientists  hate  to  be  puzzled. 

Even  from  the  point  of  view  of  a  traveller  who 
cares  not  for  field  sports,  Nova  Scotia  and  New 
Brunswick,  and  in  fact  all  Canada,  is  a  country  full 
of  interest.  It  is  interesting  for  many  reasons 
which  I  need  not  trouble  you  with,  but  especially 
so  as  showing  the  development  of  what  in  future 
will  be  a  great  nation.  For  whether  in  connection 
with  this  country,  or  as  independent,  or  as  joined 


ISO  CANADIAN   NIGHTS 

to  the  United  States,  or  any  portion  of  them,  that 
vast  region  which  is  now  called  British  North 
America  will  assuredly  some  day  support  the 
strongest,  most  powerful,  and  most  masterful 
population  on  the  continent  of  America. 


SHEEP-HUNTING    IN    THE 
MOUNTAINS 

OyiS  MONTANA,  locally  and  variously 
f  called  the  mountain  sheep,  Big-horn,  or 
Taye,  is  very  closely  allied  to,  if  he  is 
not  identical  with,  Ovis  argali,  the  wild  sheep 
of  Asia,  and  he  is  akin  to  the  European  Mouflon. 
He  stands  about  as  high  as  a  black-tail  deer,  but 
is  much  thicker  and  more  massively  made  in  the 
body  and  limbs  than  the  latter  animal.  His  head 
resembles  that  of  a  domestic  sheep,  but  it  is  larger 
and  more  powerful-looking,  and,  in  the  case  of  the 
male,  it  is  surmounted  by  a  huge  pair  of  curving 
horns  far  longer  than  those  that  adorn  the  head 
of  any  civilised  ram.  Among  these  animals  this 
ornament  is  not  confined  to  the  male  sex,  for 
the  females  also  carry  small  horns.  The  hair  is 
coarse,  very  thick  and  close,  resembling  that  of 
the  deer  in  texture,  but  bluer  in  colour  over  the 
greater  portion  of  his  body,  with  a  pecuHar  ex- 
ception which  makes  him  look  as  if  he  was  in  the 
habit  of  sitting  down  in  the  snow,  and  some  stuck 


IS2  CANADIAN   NIGHTS 

to  him.  He  is  a  grand  and  noble-looking  animal, 
viewed  standing  motionless  on  some  jutting  crag, 
or  bounding  with  gigantic  springs  down  a  precipice 
that  apparently  could  not  afford  a  foothold  to 
any  living  thing. 

Some  years  ago  I  doubted  the  existence  of  the 
mountain  sheep.  I  classed  him  with  the  Gorgons, 
dragons,  and  unicorns.  I  had  read  about  him  in 
books,  but  in  all  my  wanderings  I  had  never  seen 
one,  not  even  a  stuffed  specimen  except  in  the 
British  Museum,  and  I  had  some  doubts  as  to 
whether  they  were  genuine,  or  had  been  got  up 
after  the  manner  of  Barnum's  mermaid ;  neither 
had  I  come  across  any  reliable  man  who  had  killed 
one.  My  doubts  were,  however,  at  length  dis- 
pelled. One  day,  while  hunting  on  the  plains,  the 
government  scout  of  a  neighbouring  post  told  me 
he  was  certain  that  there  were  big-horns  on  a 
certain  range  of  bluffs  in  Wyoming.  I  did  not 
believe  him  in  the  least,  but  as  a  large  party  of  us, 
including  some  soldiers,  were  going  through  from 
a  post  on  the  railway  to  one  of  the  forts  situated 
in  that  territory,  and  as  we  should  have  to  pass 
through  the  bluffs,  we  determined  to  spend  a  few 
days  there  and  to  prospect  for  sheep.  This  same 
government  scout  was  a  considerable  villain,  and 


SHEEP-HUNTING  153 

got  us  into  a  nice  mess.  I  don't  know  why  it  was, 
but  the  inhabitants  of  the  "  city  "  in  the  neigh- 
bourhood of  the  fort  from  which  we  had  been 
hunting  took  it  into  their  wise  heads  that  neither 
my  friend  P.  nor  myself  were  likely  ever  to  revisit 
that  region,  and  that  therefore  it  was  expedient 
to  pillage,  squeeze,  and  skin  us  completely  before 
we  got  away.  They  had  laid  their  plans  pretty 
well.  The  scout  arranged  with  a  worthy  citizen 
from  whom  we  had  hired  some  horses  that  at  the 
last  moment  he  should  put  in  a  most  exorbitant 
claim  for  damage  done  to  his  horses.  Accordingly, 
after  the  ambulance  that  had  conveyed  us  to  the 
station  had  returned  to  the  fort,  and  while  we 
were  waiting  quietly  at  the  hotel  for  the  train,  it 
being  then  about  eleven  o'clock  at  night,  we  were 
politely  but  firmly  requested  to  pay  a  sum  for 
damage  done  to  the  team,  greatly  exceeding  the 
whole  value  of  both  horses  and  wagon  put  to- 
gether, and,  at  the  same  moment,  an  attachment 
was  placed  upon  our  luggage.  We  were  in  a  nice 
fix.  We  had  to  leave  by  that  night's  train,  for 
there  was  but  one  train  a  day,  and  the  party  we 
were  to  join  were  impatiently  waiting  for  us  at 

S ,  a  station  some  distance  down  the  line,  and 

expected  to  leave  the  next  day,  the  moment  the 


IS4  CANADIAN   NIGHTS 

train  got  in.  Fortunately  the  cars  were  three  or 
four  hours  late,  which  gave  us  time  to  do  some- 
thing. We  got  a  buggy,  drove  off  to  the  residence 
of  an  attorney,  who  was  recommended  to  us  by 
the  hotel  proprietor  for  his  strict  honesty,  woke 
him  up,  turned  him  out  of  bed,  narrated  the 
circumstances,  lugged  him  down  to  the  station, 
paid  the  money  into  court,  got  the  attachment 
off  our  luggage,  and  started  triumphantly  by  the 
train.  I  never  found  out  what  became  of  our  case, 
but  I  need  scarcely  say  we  never  saw  any  of  our 
money  again.  Where  it  went  to  I  do  not  know ; 
probably  it  went,  in  the  words  of  the  late  Mr. 
James  Fisk,  "  where  the  woodbine  twineth  "  ;  at 
any  rate  I  am  pretty  sure  that  a  very  small  pro- 
portion of  it,  if  any,  found  its  way  into  the  pockets 
of  the  two  conspirators — the  scout  and  the  ovmer 
of  the  horses. 

On  arriving  at  the  little  town  of  S we  found 

the  party  were  not  ready,  and  we  were  com- 
pelled to  wait  there  some  days,  a  period  of  inac- 
tivity which  proved  fatal  to  our  scout.     S was 

at  that  time  inhabited  by  a  great  many  card- 
sharpers  and  gentlemen  of  that  and  kindred 
persuasions,  and  a  few  railway  employes.  The 
small  military  post  is  situated  some  little  distance 


SHEEP-HUNTING  155 

outside  the  town.  The  day  after  our  arrival  a 
carpenter  who  had  just  completed  a  building 
contract  somewhere,  and  who  was  overflowing 
with  money  and  good-nature,  came  back  to  the 
town  and  proceeded  to  "  treat,"  with  the  result 
that  in  a  few  hours  the  city  was  mad  drunk,  and 

remained  so  for  a  considerable  time.    P and 

I  dined  that  night  at  the  barracks,  and  by  the 
time  we  returned  to  the  town  the  orgy  was  at 
its  height.  The  men  were  simply  vnld,  raving 
drunk,  drunk  with  the  vilest  of  whisky,  and 
nobody  knows  how  vile  and  how  horrible  in  its 
consequences  whisky  can  be  until  he  has  tasted 
a  sample  of  the  kind  of  stuff  that  is,  or  used  to  be, 
concocted  at  many  of  those  little  out-of-the-way 
frontier  towns.  They  were  yelling,  laughing,  roar- 
ing, fighting,  exploding  rifles  and  firing  off  revolvers 
promiscuously  all  over  the  place.  They  intended 
it  as  a  feu  de  joie  no  doubt,  but  as  they  loaded 
with  ball  cartridge,  and  were  too  magnanimous 
to  take  the  petty  precaution  of  firing  in  the  air, 

it  did  not  strike  P and  me  exactly  in  that 

light.  In  fact  it  appeared  anything  but  a  joyful 
proceeding  to  us,  and  considering  that  discretion, 
in  such  a  case,  was  undoubtedly  the  better  part  of 
valour,  we  made  a  wide  circle  out  of  the  line  of 


iS6  CANADIAN   NIGHTS 

fire  until  we  gained  the  shelter  of  a  long  line  of 
trucks,  and  under  their  friendly  cover  crept  up  to 
the  hotel  at  the  railway  station,  like  a  couple  of 
malefactors  escaping  from  a  hot  pursuit.  Male- 
factors in  fact  we  soon  found  ourselves  to  be,  for 
when  we  reached  the  hotel  we  discovered  all  our 
baggage  piled  up  in  a  heap  in  the  centre  of  the 
room,  with  the  sheriff  drunk,  and  in  his  shirt- 
sleeves, seated  on  it,  attended  by  a  judge  and  the 
sub-sheriff,  both  also  the  better — or  worse — for 
whisky.  It  was  fortunate  that  we  arrived  when 
we  did.  I'he  sheriff  or  sub-sheriff,  I  forget  which, 
had  assaulted  my  servant  in  the  most  cowardly, 
brutal  manner.  The  man  had  refused,  and  very 
properly  refused,  to  separate  my  property  from 
a  lot  of  baggage  belonging  to  other  people,  and 
the  drunken  representative  of  the  law  drew  two 
pistols  upon  him,  knocked  him  down,  kicked  him, 
threatened  to  blow  his  bad-worded  brains  out, 
and  likely  enough  would  have  done  so  but  for  the 
man's  wonderful  command  of  himself  and  quiet 
courage. 

After  some  little  difficulty  we  found  out  what 
was  the  matter.  It  appeared  that  our  government 
scout,  under  the  influence  of  bad  whisky,  had  taken 
it  into  his  head  to  try  the  attachment  dodge  over 


SHEEP-HUNTING  157 

again.  Accordingly,  during  our  absence  at  the 
barracks,  he  trumped  up  a  most  ridiculous  charge, 
claiming  five  dollars  a  day  wages  from  us  during 
the  whole  time  he  was  out  on  an  expedition  from 

Fort  ,  which  we  had  accompanied.     He  was 

receiving  government  pay,  was  detailed  for  duty 
with  the  expedition  in  his  capacity  of  government 
scout,  and  was  allowed  by  the  officer  in  command 
to  go  out  hunting  with  us  as  a  matter  of  courtesy 
and  kindness  to  us,  and  because  he  knew  the  country 
better  than  anyone  else.  The  man  was  anxious  to 
go,  and  was  very  pleased  and  perfectly  satisfied  with 
the  liberal  present  we  made  him  at  the  termination 
of  the  hunt.  The  charge  was  too  preposterous  to 
be  sustained,  but  there  was  no  use  in  representing 
the  injustice  and  absurd  nature  of  it,  as  the  civil 
authorities  and  legal  functionaries  in  the  town  were 
in  the  swim,  and,  if  they  had  not  been,  were  too 
drunk  to  listen  to  reason.  At  first  the  captors  of 
our  baggage  were  very  offensive,  and  things  looked 

somewhat   ugly ;     but   a   remark   of   P quite 

altered  the  aspect  of  affairs.  He  asked  the  sheriff, 
with  a  plaintive  air  of  humble  submission,  whether 
he  would  not  allow  us  the  use  of  one  small  article 
of  baggage,  namely,  a  five-gallon  keg  of  whisky. 
This  request  seemed  somehow  to  tickle  the  fancies 


iS8  CANADIAN   NIGHTS 

of  the  officials,  for  they  allowed  us  to  take  possession 
of  the  keg,  and  becoming  more  civil  and  communi- 
cative, told  us  that  either  we  must  pay  the  money 
claimed,  or  lose  our  baggage,  or  get  two  well-to-do 
respectable  citizens  to  go  security  for  the  amount. 
The  hotel  proprietor  and  other  gentlemen  were 
kind  enough  to  do  this  for  us,  and  the  sheriffs  then 
condescended  to  give  over  our  baggage  and  vacate 
our  rooms.  The  shouting  and  the  riot  went  on  all 
night,  and  I  am  bound  to  say  that  I  was  not  very 

sorry   to   leave   S .    The   impression   it   made 

upon  me  was  that  it  was  not  a  nice  place  for  a  quiet 
inoffensive  man  to  live  in,  especially  if  he  had  any 
property  of  any  kind.  Of  course  we  then  and  there 
discharged  our  scout.     He  applied  to  the  officer 

commanding  at  S to  pay  his  expenses  back  to 

Fort ,  which  that  officer  politely  declined  to  do, 

and  our  friend  had  to  make  his  way  back  as  best  he 
could.  He  lost  his  place,  and  that  was  the  last  I 
heard  of  him.  We  subsequently  heard  that  the 
sheriff  also  came  to  an  untimely  end.  It  seems  he 
had  a  little  unpleasantness  with  some  gentleman  of 
the  town,  and,  happening  one  night  to  see  his  friend 
through  a  window  seated  with  his  back  towards 
him,  and  thinking  that  the  opportunity  of  settling 
the  difference  between  them  was  too  good  to  be 


SHEEP-HUNTING  159 

lost,  he  fired  at  the  man,  shot  him  through  the  back, 
and  killed  him.  In  consequence  of  this  the  sheriff 
lost  his  appointment,  and,  if  report  be  true,  what 
he  probably  thought  of  still  greater  importance, 
his  life.  The  whole  town  also  was  thoroughly 
purged.  Detectives  were  sent  down,  the  card- 
sharpers  were  hunted  out  of  the  place,  the  ring  of 
villains  who  administered  so-called  law  and  justice 

was  broken  up,  and  I  believe  S has  ever  since 

been  as  peaceable  a  place  as  a  man  need  wish  to  see 
anywhere.  So  possibly  our  experience,  which  was 
decidedly  disagreeable  to  us  personally,  resulted  to 

the  general  welfare  of  the  commnuity  at  S . 

After  this  episode  we  met  with  no  further  delays, 
and  the  next  morning  we  started  on  our  way  to 

Fort . 

A  very  pleasant  time  we  had,  skirting  the  base 
of  the  hills,  following  the  old  emigrant  track  to 
Utah.  The  month  was  December,  the  weather 
fine  and  open,  and  game — that  is,  deer  and  antelope 
— abundant,  with  an  occasional  buffalo  for  a  change. 
One  day  I  went  out  alone  on  foot  to  look  for  a  deer. 
I  had  not  gone  very  far  walking  along  a  ridge,  keep- 
ing a  sharp  look-out  on  either  side,  before  I  espied 
a  long  way  off  a  party  of  five  or  six  deer.  Taking 
care  to  keep  myself  concealed,  I  got  up  within  good 


i6o  CANADIAN   NIGHTS 

view  and  took  a  spy  at  them  with  my  field-glasses, 
to  see  if  there  was  a  good  head  among  the  gang. 
There  they  were — one,  two,  three,  four,  five  deer, 
feeding  quietly,  but  I  could  not  make  out  any 
antlers  among  them.  Curious-looking  deer,  too,  I 
thought  to  myself,  and  screwed  the  glasses  in  a 
little,  and  steadied  myself  for  a  better  look.  Well, 
I  thought,  there  is  certainly  an  unusual  appearance 
about  them,  something  odd  in  the  colour,  some- 
thing strange  in  the  shape.  Of  a  sudden  a  thought 
that  felt  red-hot  rushed  through  me — what  if  they 
should  be  sheep  !  "By  Jove  !  they  are  sheep," 
I  exclaimed,  as  one  moved  a  little  into  a  better 
light — "  two  big  rams,  just  look  at  their  horns," 
and  three  small  ones.  I  declare  I  felt  as  excited  as 
if  I  had  discovered  a  new  animal  or  attained  the 
North  Pole.  I  was  so  nervous  I  could  not  do  any- 
thing for  a  few  minutes,  but  after  a  while  set  to 
work  in  fear  and  trembling  to  execute  a  scientific 
stalk.  If  those  sheep  had  been  the  last  specimens 
of  their  race  remaining  on  earth,  I  could  not  have 
been  more  anxious  to  get  a  fair  shot  at  them.  It 
was  a  difficult  country,  and  I  had  a  hard  climb  and 
an  anxious  time  of  it,  but  at  last  I  got  into  a  position 
that  I  felt  sure  would  enable  me  to  creep  up  within 
range.     Alas  !    I  was  doomed  to  awful  disappoint- 


SHEEP-HUNTING  i6i 

ment  that  day.     Two  others  of  the  party  were  out 
shooting   at   coyotes,   birds,    anything   they   came 
across ;     and   when   after   infinite   trouble    I   had 
crawled  up  within  shooting  distance  of  the  sheep, 
and  was  puUing  myself  together  and  settling  myself 
for  the  fatal  moment,  they  fired  a  shot,  started  the 
game,  and  snatched  the  victory  from  out  of  my  very 
grasp,  and  I  had  all  my  labour  to  begin  over  again. 
To  make  a  long  story  short,  I  made  three  stalks  on 
those  sheep,  for  they  were  unaccustomed  to    the 
sound  of  firearms,  and  did  not  run  far,  and  three 
times  the  same  thing  happened,  and  I  was  baulked 
by  the  same  unlucky  cause.     On  the  third  occasion, 
however,  the  sheep  were  seriously  scared,  and  ran 
so  far  that,  as  it  was  getting  late,  I  was  obliged  to 
leave  them,  and  with  a  very  heavy  heart  set  a  gloomy 
face  towards  home.     On  my  way  over  a  high  ridge  I 
noticed  something  curious  away  out  on  the  plains 
near  a  bend  of  the  Platte,  and  with  the  glasses  made 
out  a  lot  of  tents  or  Indian  tepees,  I  could  not  de- 
termine which.     We  had  a  consultation  about  it  in 
camp  that  evening,  and  decided  that,  as  there  were 
no  Indians  in  the  neighbourhood,  what  I  saw  must 
have  been  the  tents  of  a  company  of  soldiers  we 
expected  to  meet  us  from  the  fort. 
The  next  morning  my  hunting  companion,  my 


i62  CANADIAN   NIGHTS 

Scotch  gillie  Sandie,  and  I,  started  off  to  take  up 
the  trail  of  the  sheep.  We  galloped  along  till 
opposite  the  place  where  I  had  last  seen  them^ 
picketed  our  horses,  and  commenced  climbing  the 
hills.  We  had  not  gone  twenty  yards  when  we 
saw  something  moving  in  the  far  distance.  Out 
with  the  glasses  !  Perhaps  it  is  one  of  the  sheep, 
I  thought.  "  Hallo  !  "  I  cried,  amid  general  con- 
sternation, "  it  is  a  man."  Another  good  look. 
"  No,  it  is  a  woman."  "  No,  a  man  in  a  blanket. 
An  Indian  !  "  Without  another  word,  down  we 
went  flat  as  serpents  in  the  long  grass,  crawled 
back  to  our  horses,  and  then  helter-skelter  back 
to  camp  as  hard  as  we  could  go.  We  found  camp 
in  a  bustle,  men  with  their  carbines  in  their  hands 
saddling  up,  tents  being  taken  down,  and  a  lot  of 
ugly-looking  savages  sitting  about  three  or  four 
hundred  yards  off  on  a  rock,  with  their  blankets 
drawn  up  to  their  noses,  looking  on,  while  several 
more  noble  redskins  were  hovering  about  in  the  dis- 
tance. It  did  not  look  pleasant.  More  and  more 
Indians  kept  arriving,  some  with  the  carcasses 
of  deer  on  their  saddles — the  villains  !  what  right 
had  they  to  come  marauding  on  our  hunting 
grounds  ? — and  after  a  while  a  lot  of  them,  getting 
bold,    came    into    camp,    making    friendly    signs, 


SHEEP-HUNTING  163 

shook  hands,  and  sat  down  and  smoked  with  us. 
There  was  one  old  fellow  who  spoke  a  few  words 
of  English  and  acted  as  interpreter ;  he  was 
evidently  the  comic  man  of  the  party,  and  quite 
a  character  in  his  way.  He  was  a  queer,  wizened, 
dried-up  looking  specimen  of  humanity,  clothed  in 
multitudinous  rags  of  ancient  flannel  shirt,  tattered 
blanket,  and  dilapidated  deerskin  leggings.  He 
rode  a  pony  as  ancient,  as  lean,  and  as  ragged  as 
himself,  and  he  had  a  lot  of  old  rusty  beaver-traps, 
and  pots,  and  pans,  and  kettles,  and  in  fact  appa- 
rently all  his  household  goods  distributed  over 
the  persons  of  himself  and  his  steed,  and  rattling, 
clanging,  and  jingling  whenever  he  moved.  He 
made  frequent  remarks  in  Indian — jokes,  I  pre- 
sume, or  remarks  on  our  personal  appearance,  for 
they  were  received  with  shouts  of  laughter — and 
he  was  equally  voluble  in  English,  though  his 
knowledge  of  that  language  was  apparently  limited, 
for  he  kept  on  informing  us  that  "  heap  of  Sioux 
coming,  heap  wagon,  white  men  with  them." 
They  all  professed  great  friendship,  but  they  were 
so  very  saucy  and  bumptious,  and  tried  so  perti- 
naciously to  steal  everything  that  they  could  lay 
their  hands  on,  that  we  concluded  to  clear  out  as 
speedily   as    possible,    and   accordingly   we   struck 


i64  CANADIAN   NIGHTS 

tents,  bundled  everything  into  the  wagons,  and 
left  with,  as  far  as  I  am  concerned,  no  amiable 
feelings  towards  the  "  cut  off  "  band  of  Sioux.  I 
am  generally  rather  partial  to  Indians,  but  I  confess 
on  this  occasion  I  felt  fully  prepared  to  endorse 
the  opinion  of  the  gentleman  who  said  that  "  all 
Indians  were  pison."  In  the  first  place  this  same 
"  cut  off  "  band  of  Sioux  had  only  a  short  time 
before  massacred  between  eighty  and  ninety  Paw- 
nee women  and  children.  They  came  upon  the 
camp  while  all  the  men  were  out  running  buffalo, 
surrounded  it,  and  killed  every  human  being  in 
the  place.  It  may  be  said  that  it  was  "  their 
nature  so  to  do,"  the  Pawnees  and  the  Sioux  being 
hereditary  foes,  but  at  any  rate  I  defy  anyone  to 
show  that  they  had  the  slightest  right  to  come 
rampaging  about  the  bluffs,  turning  us  out  of  camp, 
spoiling  our  hunting,  and  destroying  our  chance  of 
getting  a  sheep. 

Late  in  the  evening  after  dark  we  arrived  at  a 
little  solitary  cattle-ranch  tended  by  one  man. 
He  was  standing  at  the  door  when  we  rode  up, 
looking  very  uneasy  and  peering  through  the 
darkness,  but  he  brightened  up  considerably  when 
he  saw  we  were  white  men.  He  was  very  hospi- 
table.    "  Walk  in,  boys,"  he  said,  "  walk  right  in 


SHEEP-HUNTING  165 

and  sit  down.  We  ain't  much  '  heeled '  ^  for 
chairs,  I  guess,  but  you  must  make  yourselves 
as  comfortable  as  you  can."  And  so  we  sat  down 
and  had  a  long  talk  with  him  about  cattle  and 
hunting  and  Indians,  and  the  lonely  dangerous 
life  he  led,  and  various  other  congenial  topics  of  a 
similar  nature.  We  camped  that  night  close  to 
the  ranch,  and  on  the  follov^ng  morning  made 
another  excursion  into  the  hills  in  the  hope  of 
crossing  the  tracks  of  the  sheep  ;  but  finding  that 
we  were  in  the  position  of  little  Bo-peep,  and  that 
like  her  we  had  lost  our  sheep  and  could  not  tell 
where  to  find  them,  and  not  having  sufficient 
leisure  to  adopt  the  policy  of  masterly  inactivity 
recommended  to  that  young  lady — a  policy  which, 
moreover,  we  were  forced  to  recognise  would  have 
proved  unavailing  in  our  case,  since  we  were 
anxious  only  about  the  heads  and  horns  of  the 
animals,  and  the  position  of  their  tails  was  a  matter 
of  indifference  to  us  in  the  event  of  their  coming 
home — and  perceiving  that  the  Indians  had  run 
through  the  whole  district  and  had  scared  the 
game  out  of  it,  we  very  reluctantly  abandoned  the 

^  To  be  "  heeled  "  signifies  in  Western  phraseology  to  be  prepared  for, 
or  provided  with,  anything.  The  term  is  borrowed  from  the  cockpit ;  a 
bird  is  said  to  be  heeled  when  his  spurs  are  put  on  and  he  is  ready  for 
the  fight. 


i66  CANADIAN   NIGHTS 

sheep,  and  struck  out  in  a  straight  line  for  our 
destination. 

We  had  to  travel  through  an  ugly  monotonous 
country  consisting  of  flat  dried-up  plains  broken 
by  occasional  lines  of  clay  bluffs.  Herbage  was 
scarce,  fuel  still  scarcer,  and  as  we  had  no  time  for 
hunting  even  if  the  country  had  been  favourable 
for  the  chase,  we  thought  it  best  to  shorten  the 
journey  as  much  as  possible.  Accordingly  when 
we  got  within  two  or  three  days'  march  of  the 
fort,  four  of  us  determined  to  make  a  push  for  it 
and  try  to  accomplish  the  distance,  some  seventy 
miles  or  so,  in  one  day.  We  travelled  fast, 
"  loping  "  along  most  of  the  way,  without  seeing 
sign  of  man  or  beast  until  late  in  the  afternoon, 
when  we  espied  two  men  galloping  towards  us. 
As  soon  as  they  caught  sight  of  us  they  pulled  up, 
then  came  on  a  little  further,  stopped  again, 
turned  round,  and  galloped  off  a  short  distance, 
then  stopped  again,  and  finally  turned  out  of  the 
track,  pushed  their  horses  a  little  way  up  the 
hill-side,  and  awaited  us.  Their  manners  puzzled 
us  somewhat,  but  as  they  were  only  two,  while 
we  were  four,  we  felt  exceedingly  courageous  and 
cantered  merrily  on.  As  soon  as  we  got  near 
they  moved  down   the  hill  towards  us,   and  we 


SHEEP-HUNTING  167 

pulled  up  to  see  what  they  wanted.  "  Good- 
evening,  boys,"  said  J ;   "  can  you  tell  us  how 

far  it  is  into  the  fort,  and  what  on  earth  were  you 
doing  up  the  hill  there  ?  "  "  Well,  I  never  did," 
answered  one  of  the  men  ;  "  darned  if  we  did  not 
take  you  fellers  for  Indians.     What  were  we  doing 

up  the  hill  ?     What  in  the  were  you  doing 

scooting  over  the  prairie  on  a  dead  jump  like  that 
for  ?  We  made  sure  you  were  Indians,  did  not 
we,  Jim  ?  and  we  kinder  thought  we  would  have  a 
better  show  up  on  the  high  grounds.  How  far  is 
it  to  the  fort  ?     WeU,  if    you  keep  up  that  kind 

of to  split  gait  it  won't  take  you  long  to  git 

there,  I  guess  ;  anyhow,  you'll  be  in  soon  after 
dark.  Been  hunting,  I  expect,  haven't  you  ? 
You  did  not  happen  to  see  any  steers  down  this 
way  as  you  came  along,  did  you  ?  We  lost  some 
of  ours  a  couple  of  days  ago,  and  can't  get  track 
of  them  anywhere.  Did  you  see  no  Indians 
either  ?  No !  Well,  that's  kinder  strange  too. 
You  had  better  keep  your  eyes  skinned,  there's 
plenty  of  'em  around,  and  they  are  getting  mighty 

sarcy  too.     Why,  Dr.  drove  out  in  his  buggy 

a  few  miles  from  the  fort  the  other  day  to  meet 
some  gentlemen  he  was  expecting — likely  you're 
the  party,   I   expect — and   darned  if  a  bunch  of 


i68  CANADIAN   NIGHTS 

Indians  did  not  come  across  him  and  chased  him 
right  back  into  the  fort,  and  a  mighty  near  thing 
it  was  too,  I  tell  you.  Well,  good- evening.  I 
guess  we  won't  go  any  further  this  way,  Jim, 
since  they  haven't  seen  any  sign  of  those  steers." 
And  so  with  mutual  good-nights  we  parted,  they 
to  pick  a  nice  place  to  camp  for  the  night,  and  we 
to  pursue  our  way  to  the  fort. 

It  was  long  after  dark  when  we  got  in,  and,  after 

saying  good-night  to  Lieut. ,  who  went  off  to 

look  up  his  friends,  at  length  hitched  up  our  tired 

hoises  at  Dr.  's  door,  and  after  knocking  for 

admittance  in  vain  walked  in  and  sat  down  in  the 
parlour  to  await  the  arrival  of  our  host.  After 
a  few  anxious  minutes — for  we  were  getting  very 
hungry,  not  to  say  thirsty  and  tired,  and  had  been 
consoling  ourselves  during  the  last  few  wearisome 
hours  of  darkness  with  anticipations  of  an  hospi- 
table welcome — a  step  resounded  in  the  wooden 
passage,  the  door  opened,  and  a  gentleman  entered 
the  room,  and,  after  scrutinising  us  with  a  somewhat 
astonished  gaze,  said,  "  Well,  men,  what  do  you 

want  ?  "     "  We   were   looking   for   Dr.    ,"    I 

timidly  answered.  "  Perhaps  you  could  tell  us — " 
"  That's  all  right,"  he  interrupted ;  "I  am 
Dr.    .     What's    the    matter  ?     what    do   you 


SHEEP-HUNTING  169 

want  with  me  ?  "  "  Oh  !  "  I  said,  feeling  rather 
aggrieved  at  this  reception,  "  I  beg  your  pardon  for 
intruding.     We  don't  want  anything.     We  thought 

probably  you  were   expecting   us.     General  

said  he  would  write,  and  so  we  thought  we 
would  call,  and — "  "  Why,  my  dear  sir,  I  am 
most  delighted  to  see  you,  most  happy  to  make 
your  acquaintance,"  cried  the  Doctor,  shaking 
hands  violently.  "  Why  did  you  not  say  who  you 
were  ?  won't  you  introduce  me  to  your  friends  ? 
Expecting  you,  why  of  course  I  have  been  expecting 
you  this  ever  so  long,  began  to  think  you  must 
have  been  jumped  by  Indians.  By  Jove,  I  came 
pretty  near  losing  my  scalp  a  couple  of  days  ago. 
I  went  out  for  a  drive  in  the  afternoon,  thinking 
I  might  meet  you,  and  six  of  those  infernal  Sioux 
ran  right  on  top  of  me  and  chased  me  clean  up  to 
the  fort.  If  I  had  not  had  a  pretty  good  horse, 
I  should  have  been  in  a  tight  place,  I  can  tell  you, 
but  there  are  not  many  Indian  ponies  that  can 
get  near  the  mare  I  was  driving.  She  is  a  beauty. 
I  must  take  you  out  for  a  drive  to-morrow  (No, 
I  thank  you,  thinks  I,  not  any  for  me.  I  don't 
want  to  be  chased  round  Wyoming  in  a  buggy  by 
a  parcel  of  Sioux  Indians).  In  the  meantime  you 
are  pretty  hungry,  I  expect.    What !    come  in  all 


I70  CANADIAN   NIGHTS 

the  way  from  the  big  bend,  did  you,  you  don't  say. 
Well,  we  will  soon  settle  that  all  right ;  supper 
will  be  ready  in  five  minutes.  In  the  meantime 
don't  you  think  Just  a  little — eh  ?  yes,  I  think  so, 
from  a  purely  medical  point  of  view,  I  should 
certainly  recommend  it,"  and  the  Doctor  left  the 
room,  to  reappear  in  a  minute  preceded  by  a 
pleasant  tinkling  of  spoons  and  glasses.  "  How  ?  " 
said  the  doctor,  and  "  how  "  we  replied  in  chorus, 
replacing  our  empty  goblets  on  the  table,  and  in  a 
few  minutes  four  hungry  individuals  were  seated 
round  the  table,  busily  engaged  in  spoiling  appe- 
tites engendered  by  a  long  day's  ride. 

jSome  time  after  I  asked  the  Doctor,  who  proved 
to  be  not  only  a  most  hospitable  host  but  also  a 
most  charming  and  agreeable  companion,  why  he 
appeared  so  much  astonished  and  in  fact  disgusted 
at  our  first  appearance.  "  Well,"  he  said,  "  you 
must  not  be  offended,  you  know,  but  really  you 
did  look  the  most  horrid  set  of  scoundrels  ;  upon 
my  word  you  were  the  very  roughest-looking 
crowd  I  have  seen  since  I  came  out  west.  I 
thought  at  first  that  some  one  of  the  cattle-boys 
had  met  with  some  accident,  broken  his  leg  or 
something,  but  when  you  all  stood  up,  and  there 
was  evidently  nothing  the  matter  with  any  of  you, 


SHEEP-HUNTING  171 

I  was  puzzled.  I  could  not  make  out  who  you 
were  or  what  you  wanted,  anyhow."  I  could  not 
dispute  the  accuracy  of  the  Doctor's  first  estimate 
of  our  social  status  and  moral  character.  Our 
countenances,  scarred  by  the  cutting  wind, 
blistered  and  peeled  by  the  rays  of  a  bright 
winter's  sun  reflected  from  dazzling  snow  or  the 
almost  equally  white  surface  of  alkaline  plains, 
were  partially  concealed  by  a  three  weeks'  growth 
of  stubbly  beard,  and  were  deeply  engrained  with 
the  black  impalpable  powder  swept  from  off  the 
burned  prairie  by  fierce  gales.  Our  hands  were 
grimy,  our  clothes  blood-besmirched  and  dirty,  our 
moccasins  in  holes,  our  headgear  misshapen — for 
constantly  sleeping  in  a  felt  hat  does  not  improve 
its  appearance  or  add  elegance  to  its  form  ;  we 
were  tired  and  travel-stained,  and  I  have  no  doubt 
we  did  look  a  most  disreputable  gang.  After  all, 
it  is  the  clothes  that  make  the  man.  One  reads 
in  books  of  gifted  individuals — superior  persons, 
in  whose  uncontaminated  veins  courses  the  bluest 
Norman  blood — who  are  supposed  to  present  a 
dignified  and  gentlemanlike  appearance  under  all 
circumstances ;  but  one  does  not  often  come 
across  them  in  real  life.  The  gentility  of  most 
men    is    contained    in    their    shirt    collars.     The 


172  CANADIAN   NIGHTS 

simple  innocence  of  a  narrow  band  of  white  un- 
defiled  linen  invests  the  whole  figure  with  an  air 
that  nothing  else  can  impart.  Remove  it,  supply 
its  place  with  a  ragged  woollen  muffler  or  kerchief 
of  ancient  date,  and  the  effect  is  marvellous  and 
sad.  If  you  want  to  destroy  an  aristocracy,  cut 
off  their  collars,  not  their  heads.  Of  course  there 
are  some  men  who  bear  the  change  better  than 
others.  So  there  are  some  individuals  among  all 
those  classes  that  lead  rough,  wild,  out-of-door 
lives,  such  as  hunters,  trappers,  miners,  cattle 
men,  lumber  men,  &c.,  who  look  more  refined  and 
neater  than  their  fellows,  and  these  men,  being  to 
the  manner  born,  will  look  a  great  deal  more  like 
gentlemen  than  almost  any  gentleman  who  has 
taken  to  the  wild  life  for  a  while.  A  few  weeks  in 
the  wilderness  will  transform  most  high-bred 
looking  men,  and  give  them  the  appearance  of 
atrocious  villains  of  the  deepest  dye.  You  need 
not  smile,  you  fellows,  I  really  have  not  any 
personal  feeling  in  this  matter.  It  is  true  that 
my  appearance  and  probable  circumstances  in  life 
have  been  the  subject  of  varied  criticism  and 
frequent  remarks.  I  have  had  many  trades,  occu- 
pations, and  missions  in  life  attributed  to  me,  all 
very  wide  of  the  mark,  but  none  of  them  incom- 


SHEEP-HUNTING  173 

patible  with  a  decent  and  honourable  existence. 
Under  these  circumstances  I  have  no  ground  of 
complaint,  seeing  that  I  have  but  little  faith  in 
the  novelist's  theory  of  the  indestructibility  of  a 
gentlemanlike  appearance,  but  believe  greatly  in 
the  saving  qualities  of  a  shirt  collar  ;  and  hold  that 
without  that  mystic  ring,  if  you  take  a  lot  of  men 
from  different  classes,  mix  them  up,  dress  them 
in  the  same  rough  clothes,  and  see  that  they  are 
all  equally  unkempt,  unshaven,  and  unclean,  you 
will  find  it  very  hard  to  separate  them  correctly 
again. 

For  the  next  three  days  we  were  busily  engaged, 
in  "  paying  visits  "  during  the  first  two,  and  in 
recuperating  our  shattered  constitutions  on  the 
third.  Then  Christmas  was  close  at  hand,  and 
we  concluded  to  celebrate  that  festival  in  the 
fort,  so  that  it  was  not  until  ten  days  or  a  fortnight 
after  our  arrival  that  we  sallied  out  on  a  hunting 
expedition  into  the  Black  Hills.  Game  proved 
tolerably  abundant,  but  the  weather  was  awfully 
cold,  too  cold  for  pleasure.  If  I  may  here  be 
allowed  to  offer  one  word  of  advice  to  hunters,  I 
would  say.  Don't  go  out  on  the  plains  in  the 
northern  and  middle  territories  and  states  in  the 
depth   of   winter ;     the   game   is   not   worth   the 


174  CANADIAN   NIGHTS 

candle.  Up  to  about  Christmas  you  are  safe 
enough  ;  you  will  experience  spells  of  cold  weather, 
but  nothing  to  hurt,  up  to  that  time ;  but  after 
the  end  of  December  you  may  be  caught  at  any 
moment  in  a  cold  snap,  lasting  several  days,  when 
the  thermometer  will  go  down  very  low,  and  the 
intense  cold  be  accompanied  by  violent  cruel  gales 
of  wind.  Such  storms  are  dangerous,  and  may 
result  in  loss  of  limb  or  even  of  life  to  the 
traveller  whose  camp  is  in  an  exposed  position. 
Among  the  hills  and  in  the  forest  you  are  right 
enough  at  all  times,  for  it  is  your  own  fault,  or 
the  fault  of  the  men  with  you,  if  you  cannot  make 
yourself  comfortable  in  any  weather  where  fuel 
and  shelter  can  be  obtained.  Nothing  worthy  of 
note  occurred  during  this  expedition  except  a 
little  misunderstanding  which  came  near  proving 
inconvenient  to  one  of  the  party.  As  one  of  the 
officers  from  the  fort  and  I  were  returning  to 
camp  one  evening,  making  our  way  through  a 
thick  growth  of  brush  and  cotton-wood  trees  that 
fringed  a  little  stream,  we  happened  to  start  one 
of  those  huge  prairie  hares  commonly  called 
jack-rabbits.  We  fired  at  him,  as  we  were  close 
to  the  camp  and  there  was  no  danger  of  scaring 
better   game,   and   then   slid   off   our  horses   and 


SHEEP-HUNTING  175 

commenced  peering  and  poking  about  among  the 
bushes  to  try  and  get  another  shot.     We  had  fired 
two  or  three  more  unsuccessful  shots,  when  we 
broke  suddenly  into  a  little  open  glade,  in  full 
view    of    a    small   log    shanty.    We    were    vastly 
astonished,   for   we   did   not   know   there   was    a 
human  habitation  within  miles  and  miles  of  us, 
and   to   add  to  our   dismay   an   excited   German 
sprang  up  in  the  open  doorway  and  advanced  to 
us,    shouting    and    gesticulating    in    the    wildest 
manner.    "  Mein    Gott ! "    he   cried,    "  I    am    so 
glad  I  did  not  shoot.     Oh,  mein  Gott,  I  am  so 
glad.    I   thought  the   Indians  were  on  me  this 
time  sure  :    what  for  you  fire  into  mein  house  ? 
Three  or  four  bullets  come  right  slam  into  mein 
house,   I   tell  you.     I  was  lying  down  behind  a 
flour-sack,  and  could  see  you  peeping  about  in  the 
bush  like  so  many  Indian  thieves.     I  got  a  beauti- 
ful sight  on  that  little  fellow  in  the  deerskin  shirt, 
and  was  shoost  about  to  pull  when  you  come  out 
into  the  open,  and  I  saw  you  were  white  men. 
He'd  have  gone  up  anyhow,  I  tell  you.     I  had  a 
sure  thing  on  him."     It  was  no  wonder  the  poor 
man  was  alarmed,  for  in  fact  some  of  our  bullets 
had  by  bad  luck  gone  right  into  his  shanty  through 
the  open  door.    He  had  made  all  his  preparations, 


176  CANADIAN   NIGHTS 

had  thrown  down  two  sacks  of  flour  across  the 
doorway,  and  was  lying  down  behind  them,  with 
his  finger  pressing  the  trigger  of  a  sixteen-shooter 
repeating  rifle  when  we  burst  out  of  the  bush  and 
revealed  ourselves  just  in  time.  The  consequences 
might  have  been  serious,  if  not  they  would  have 
been  comical,  for  if  he  had  fired  we  should  have 
taken  him  for  Indians,  and  should  have  got  into 
cover  and  returned  the  fire ;  and  our  friends, 
hearing  an  unusual  amount  of  shooting  close  to 
the  camp,  would  have  come  to  our  assistance, 
and  a  little  battle  all  about  nothing  would  have 
ensued. 

We  enjoyed  pretty  fair  sport  during  this  hunt, 
and  got  a  good  many  deer  and  two  sheep,  but  the 
latter  were  small  young  rams,  and  it  was  not  until 
I  had  killed  a  large  specimen  some  time  later  that 
I  quite  forgave  the  "  cut  off  "  band  of  Sioux  for 
disturbing  us  in  the  bluffs. 

Indians  are  a  great  nuisance,  more  especially  the 
Sioux,  who  roam  over  the  whole  breadth  of  the 
interior  of  the  continent  as  far  west  as  the  Rocky 
Mountains,  and  eastward  to  the  territories  of  their 
hereditary  enemies,  the  Chippewas.  How  these 
two  tribes  can  ever  have  fought  together  much  I 
don't  know,  for  a  Sioux  is  entirely  out  of  his  element 


SHEEP-HUNTING  177 

off  the  plains,  knows  little  of  canoes,  and  hates  to 
trust  himself  in  the  woods  or  among  the  mountains ; 
while  the  Chippewa  is  a  fish  out  of  water  when 
away  from  his  swamps,  rivers,  lakes,  and  woods. 
They  are  a  fine  tribe,  the  Chippewas,  as  far  as  my 
experience  of  them  goes,  and  much  to  be  preferred 
in  every  way  to  their  roving,  marauding,  trouble- 
some neighbours  on  the  plains.  I  think  it  is  Wash- 
ington Irving  who  has  somewhere  (I  forget  where) 
unfavourably  contrasted  the  Indian,  half-breed, 
or  French  voyageur^  "  cowering  in  his  canoe,"  with 
the  bold  adventurous  hunters  and  trappers  who 
career  on  their  high-mettled  steeds  over  the  bound- 
less prairie.  With  all  deference  to  Washington 
Irving,  I  do  not  think  he  could  have  had  much 
actual  experience  in  canoes,  or  he  would  not  have 
found  it  necessary  to  "  cower,"  nor  would  he  have 
found  travelling  in  a  canoe  conducive  to  a  mean, 
melancholy,  dispirited  frame  of  mind,  as  is  evi- 
denced by  the  fact  that  Canadian  Indians  and  the 
Hudson  Bay  Company  voy agents  and  other  half- 
breeds  are  about  the  most  joyous,  light-hearted 
people  on  the  face  of  the  earth. 

I  made  a  very  extensive  acquaintance  among 
mountain  sheep  afterwards  in  Estes  Park  in  Color- 
ado, and  on  one  occasion  caught  a  young  one  alive. 


M 


178  CANADIAN   NIGHTS 

I  left  the  ranch  just  before  grey  dawn  to  take  a 
soHtary  stroll  round  the  margin  of  St.  Mary's  Lake, 
and  on  the  slopes  and  spurs  of  sheep  mountain,  and 
to  enjoy  that  most  glorious  spectacle,  a  sunrise 
among  the  mountains.  I  had  also  some  hopes  of 
picking  up  a  sheep  or  deer.  It  is  hard  to  imagine 
anything  more  beautiful  than  a  summer  sunrise  in 
those  regions.  There  is  a  curious  effect  in  nature 
just  before  the  break  of  day  that  is  impossible  to 
describe,  but  that  I  think  all  who  have  passed  many 
nights  under  the  stars  will  recognise.  There  comes 
a  sort  of  strange  uneasy  feeling  through  the  atmos- 
phere, a  faint  tremor  as  of  cold  air  moves  over  the 
earth,  as  if  Nature  shivered  in  her  sleep,  grew 
restless,  and  half  awoke. 

That  sensation  will  be  the  first  token  of  a  great 
change  at  hand.  Then  the  morning  star  shines  out 
bright  and  strong,  and  the  other  constellations 
begin  to  fade.  The  highest  peaks  seem  to  approach 
one  quickly,  commence  to  look  nearer,  to  stand  out 
clearer  and  whiter  than  before.  A  faint,  a  very 
faint,  light  steals  over  them,  a  radiance  deepening 
quickly  into  the  beautiful  colour  of  a  fresh  rose, 
deepening  still,  flushing,  glowing,  and  spreading 
downwards,  colouring  the  snow  a  most  delicate 
pink,   gilding  with  bright  gold  the  yellow  grass, 


SHEEP-HUNTING  179 

burnishing  and  shining  like  silver  on  ice  and  rock. 
Mists  creep  up  the  hillsides,  grey  in  the  valleys,  pink 
on  the  tops,  brooding  sluggishly  in  heavy  clouds 
among  the  low^er  masses  of  timber,  gauzy,  thin, 
transparent,  and  hanging  in  long  w^isps  and  shreds 
from  the  higher  summits  of  the  range.  Of  a  sudden 
a  bare  naked  crag,  piercing  the  heavens,  blazes  into 
dazzling  light,  like  a  fiery  beacon.  Peak  after  peak 
answers  the  signal.  The  light  flov^s  down.  The 
mists  float  up.  Black  darkness  still  reigns  in  the 
valleys,  the  eastern  slopes  are  still  wrapped  in  sleep, 
but  the  western  hillsides  are  sparkling  with  the 
brightness  of  a  white  frost  or  dewdrops  under  a 
dazzling  sun,  and  all  the  fells  and  peaks  above  them 
are  bathed  in  light.  There  is  nothing  so  beautiful 
as  beautiful  scenery,  and  it  is  never  seen  to  better 
advantage  than  in  the  first  hour  of  the  dawn. 

It  is  not  difficult,  after  several  days'  hard  work 
hunting,  to  spend  an  idle  day  or  two  in  such  a  scene, 
watching  the  face  of  nature  ever  changing  under 
cloud  and  sunshine,  calm  and  tempest.  The  eye 
never  aches  at  the  sight  of  lovely  scenery,  nor  does 
the  soul  sadden.  It  is  the  one  thing  that  never 
palls,  with  which  neither  mind  nor  body  is  ever 
weary. 

The  love  of  hunting  is  a  passion  that  leads  a  man 


i8o  CANADIAN   NIGHTS 

into  scenes  of  most  picturesque  beauty.  The 
speckled  trout  allures  him  to  lake  and  stream ;  in 
pursuit  of  deer,  he  wanders  through  many  a  se- 
cluded valley,  amid  scenes  of  soft  beauty,  which 
otherwise  he  might  never  see.  To  find  the  "  big- 
horn "  he  scales  giddy  precipices,  and  climbs  to 
soaring  peaks,  and  confronts  nature  face  to  face  in 
her  grandest,  most  terrific  moods.  He  is  with 
nature  always,  whether  on  foot,  on  horseback,  or 
in  his  birch-bark  canoe. 

Walking  in  the  midst  of  such  lovely  scenery,  and 
watching  the  day  break  in  such  infinite  splendour, 
I  must  confess  that  I  became  somewhat  careless  as 
to  my  hunting,  and  stumbled  right  on  top  of  a 
little  band  of  sheep,  feeding  on  the  level  ground, 
before  I  was  aware  of  their  presence.  In  fact  I 
did  not  see  them  until  they  started.  I  fired,  but 
without  any  effect,  and  set  the  hound,  poor  old 
Plunk,  after  them. 

They  had  got  too  good  a  start,  and  he  could  not 
come  near  them,  but  after  a  while  I  noticed  a  little 
sheep  lagging  behind.  Thinking  Plunk  might  over- 
take it,  I  started  off  best  pace  after  him.  It  is 
no  joke  running  over  rough  ground  at  an  ele- 
vation of  some  8000  feet  on  a  blazing  hot  July 
morning  in    Colorado,    and    I    puffed    and    blew 


SHEEP-HUNTING  i8i 

and  "  larded  the  lean  earth  "  in  the  most  generous 
manner. 

When  I  came  up  I  found  the  sheep  perched  on  a 
little  pinnacle  of  rock,  and  the  hound  baying  furi- 
ously below.  Poor  little  beast,  I  pitied  it.  It  was 
only  about  three  months  old,  and  it  looked  very 
forlorn  ;  it  was  very  slightly  wounded  also,  a  fact 
which  I  did  not  know  before.  I  went  up  to  it  and 
patted  it,  and  the  poor  little  creature  did  not  seem 
much  frightened,  and  did  not  mind  my  touching  it 
a  bit ;  but  it  would  not  follow  me.  It  was  too 
much  afraid  of  the  dog,  I  fancy.  I  did  not  know 
what  to  do.  I  wanted  to  keep  it  alive,  for  a  tame 
sheep  is  somewhat  of  a  rarity.  I  was  afraid  to 
leave  it  alone  while  I  went  for  a  wagon,  and  I  was 
afraid  of  leaving  the  hound  to  watch  it,  lest  he 
should  run  in  upon  it  and  kill  it  during  my  ab- 
sence. So  I  concluded  to  pack  it  into  the  ranch 
on  my  back.  A  nice  job  I  had  of  it.  The  little 
animal  was  as  strong  as  a  donkey,  and  kicked  and 
walloped  about  all  the  time.  It  was  as  much  as 
I  could  do  to  keep  it  on  my  shoulders.  By  that 
time  the  forenoon  was  far  spent,  and  the  sun  was 
pouring  dovm  with  tropical  strength.  I  don't 
know  which  of  us  was  most  exhausted  by  the  time 
we  got  to  the  house.     However,  I  was  none  the 


1 82  CANADIAN   NIGHTS 

worse,  but  the  poor  little  sheep  never  recovered. 
He  drank  lots  of  milk,  and  seemed  all  right  for  the 
first  day,  but  after  that  he  pined  away  and  died  in 
three  or  four  days. 

Running  sheep  with  hounds  is  a  good  deal  prac- 
tised in  some  places.  I  don't  like  it.  It  is  a  repre- 
hensible habit,  and  scares  all  the  game  out  of  the 
country.  It  is  a  very  sure  and  easy  way  of  killing 
sheep  if  you  have  a  first-rate  dog  and  the  ground 
is  suitable  to  the  sport,  but  unless  those  two  con- 
ditions are  fulfilled  the  chance  of  success  is  small. 
Your  hound  must  be  very  speedy  and  staunch,  and 
accustomed  to  the  business  ;  and  the  sheep  must  be 
found  near  some  isolated  pinnacle  or  crags  of  cliff. 
You  creep  up  as  near  as  you  possibly  can  to  the 
game,  and  then  start  the  dog  at  them,  yelling  and 
hallooing,  to  scare  them  as  much  as  possible,  as  soon 
as  you  perceive  that  they  have  caught  sight  of  the 
hound.  The  sheep  will  run  straight  up  the  moun- 
tain, and  will  beat  any  dog  in  a  short  time ;  but  if 
the  hound  has  got  a  good  start,  and  if  the  ground 
has  been  pretty  level  at  first,  he  will  press  them  so 
hard  that  one  or  perhaps  two  or  three  of  them  will 
take  refuge  on  the  first  precipitous  cliff  or  crag  they 
can  find.  If  that  happens  to  be  an  isolated  rock  so 
small  that  the  dog  can  keep  guard  round  the  base  of 


SHEEP-HUNTING  183 

it,  he  will  keep  the  sheep  at  bay — "  treed,"  as  they 
say  in  Colorado — until  his  master  comes  up.  But 
for  one  successful  run  you  may  make  many  un- 
successful ones.  Nothing  scares  game  so  much  as 
running  them  with  dogs,  and  consequently  it  is  a 
pastime  that  ought  never  to  be  pursued,  or  at  any 
rate  hardly  ever,  and  then  only  when  you  can  be 
quite  certain  of  success.  The  place  where  I  caught 
the  little  sheep  was  very  favourable  for  running 
them. 

The  water  of  St.  Mary's  Lake  is  strongly  impreg- 
nated with  alkali,  and  leaves  a  deposit  of  that  sub- 
stance round  the  edge.  The  spot  is  in  consequence 
much  frequented  by  sheep,  who,  in  common  with 
all  kinds  of  deer  and  cattle,  are  intensely  fond  of 
salt.  In  former  days  sheep  used  to  come  down 
nearly  every  morning  to  lick  the  alkali  on  the  little 
plains  surrounding  the  lake.  The  ground  in  the 
neighbourhood  is  level,  with  three  or  four  quite 
detached  rocks  jutting  out  of  it,  and  on  one  side  you 
can  get  down  pretty  close  to  the  plain  without 
showing  yourself.  I  remember  one  day  that  same 
summer  we  passed  the  lake,  a  party  of  four  of  us 
with  a  string  of  packhorses,  on  our  way  to  pitch 
camp  for  a  few  days  high  up  on  Long's  Peak  for  the 
purpose  of  hunting  wapiti  on  the  highest  fells.     I 


1 84  CANADIAN   NIGHTS 

was  riding  behind  when  I  heard  Plunk  barking 
furiously,  and  on  galloping  up  found  the  cavalcade 
halted  at  a  little  distance,  Plunk  halfway  up  one  of 
the  masses  of  detached  rock,  barking  vigorously,  and 
every  now  and  then  making  plunges  towards  a  fine 
old  patriarchal  ram  who  stood  on  the  top  of  the 
rock,  and  who,  with  feet  placed  closed  together  and 
head  stooped,  followed  every  movement  of  the  dog, 
presenting  his  massive  horns  to  him  at  every  point 
of  attack.  It  was  a  very  pretty  sight.  In  front  lay 
a  green  grass-covered  plain  bounded  by  the  little 
lake,  vividly  blue  and  sparkling  under  a  summer 
breeze  and  the  bright  sun  that  shone  on  the  white 
alkali  that  fringed  its  shores.  On  the  far  side  of  it 
the  mountain  rose,  covered  to  the  right  with  a  thick 
growth  of  green  young  pine  timber,  but  on  the  left 
burned  and  bare,  and  terminating  in  the  great  crags 
and  cliffs  of  sheep  mountain.  In  the  foreground, 
piercing  the  green  plain,  rose  a  mass  of  red  sand- 
stone crowned  with  the  massive  and  stately  form  of 
the  defiant  ram,  while  the  huge  dun-coloured  hound, 
bristling  with  rage,  furiously  bayed  and  rushed  at 
him  from  below.  The  people  at  the  ranch  had 
roast  mutton  for  dinner  that  night,  and  we  had 
mutton  chops  for  tea  on  Long's  Peak.  That  was 
the  only  time  I  ever  killed  a  sheep  with  a  hound, 


SHEEP-HUNTING  185 

and  it  was  a  mere  accident,  for  we  ran  across  the 
sheep  by  chance.  Plunk  belonged  to  Mr.  Evans, 
who  at  that  time  owned  the  ranch-house.  He  was 
the  best  dog  for  that  kind  of  work  I  ever  saw  or 
heard  of,  for  if  he  once  "  treed  "  a  sheep  he  would 
hold  him  there  for  days.  He  got  into  many  scrapes, 
poor  beast ;  he  was  so  eager,  he  would  follow  sheep 
anywhere,  and  on  one  or  two  occasions  got  into 
positions  from  which  he  could  not  have  extricated 
himself  without  human  aid.  And  in  that  way  he 
met  his  fate.  He  got  after  a  band  of  sheep  one 
day,  and  followed  them  away  off  out  of  sight  and 
out  of  hearing.  No  distant  note  of  baying  came 
to  the  anxious  ear  of  his  master,  who  searched  all 
that  day  for  him  fruitlessly  till  nightfall,  and  all  the 
next  day  and  many  days  equally  in  vain.  Poor 
Plunk  was  never  seen  or  heard  of  again.  He  must 
either  have  fallen  over  some  cliff,  or  have  jumped 
down  upon  some  ledge  from  which  he  could  not 
descend  or  ascend  again,  and  there  perished  slowly 
and  miserably  of  starvation. 

The  mountain  sheep  is  a  magnificent  animal,  and 
the  ram  carries  a  splendid  head.  He  is  wild-looking 
and  picturesque,  and  exactly  suits  the  character  of 
the  country  in  which  he  is  found.  I  know  nothing 
finer  in  nature  than  the  massive  form  of  a  big  old 


i86  CANADIAN   NIGHTS 

ram  standing  on  some  jutting  point  of  a  precipitous 
cliff  amidst  the  grandeur  of  the  mountains  which 
are  his  home.     It  requires  a  good  deal  of  patience 
and  perseverance  to  hunt  the  mountain  sheep  suc- 
cessfully.    As  a  rule  they  are  to  be  found  on  the 
highest  peaks  and  the  most  inaccessible  positions  of 
the  range,  though  in  the  rutting  season,  if  you  are 
fortunate  enough  to  find  a  locality  inhabited  by 
sheep  and  undisturbed  by  man,  they  will  come 
down  and  may  be  met  with  and  killed  with  com- 
parative ease.     To  hunt  the  animal  with  success, 
you   must  have  a   tolerably  accurate  idea  of  his 
manners   and  customs.    The   mountain   sheep   in 
Colorado  come  down  to  the  foothills  in  the  early 
spring,  and  return  with  their  lambs  about  a  month 
or  six  weeks  old  in  the  month  of  June  or  July.     The 
old  rams  stay  up  on  the  mountains,  and  seem  to 
seek  the  highest  crags  for  shelter,  even  during  the 
terrible   storms   of   winter.     Of   course   the  snow 
never  lies  on  the  more  precipitous  parts  of  the 
mountains,  and  there  is  plenty  of  long  grass  for 
them  to  feed  upon,  and  they  appear  to  prefer  the 
shelter  they  obtain  among  the  caves  and  caverns 
of  the  rocks  to  coming  down  lower  on  to  more 
snow-encumbered     regions,     and     seeking     safety 
amongst  the  timber."    They  "are  very  fond  of  alkali, 


SHEEP-HUNTING  187 

like  all  other  animals,  and  will  run  great  risks  to  get 
a  lick  of  salt  every  now  and  then  ;  they  will  also 
come  down  to  feed  occasionally  on  little  plains  and 
parks  at  the  foot  of  the  mountains. 

I  have  shot  many,  many  sheep  at  one  spot  close 
to  the  margin  of  a  shallow  brackish  pond.  Finding 
that  they  generally  came  down  about  eight  or  nine 
o'clock  in  the  morning,  I  used  to  get  there  about 
seven,  and  sit  down  and  wait  patiently  for  them. 
I  have  seen  them  over  and  over  again  descend  the 
mountain,  skylarking  among  themselves,  galloping 
dovm  a  few  hundred  yards  and  then  stopping  and 
looking  out  carefully  all  over  the  country.  Finally 
they  would  descend  to  the  pond,  and,  after  some 
hesitation  and  a  great  deal  of  caution,  would  walk 
boldly  out  on  the  plain,  and  begin  to  lick  the  alkali 
and  browse  a  little  on  the  grass. 

They  would  stop  down  sometimes  an  hour  or 
two  if  undisturbed,  and  I  have  often  watched 
them  simply  to  see  what  they  would  do.  After  a 
time  they  would  scamper  off  again,  butting  each 
other  with  their  heads  in  sport,  and  at  last  would 
clamber  up  the  mountain-side  and  disappear.  The 
great  thing  in  sheep-hunting  is  to  get  above  them  ; 
it  is  no  use  whatever  trying  to  stalk  a  big  ram  by 
endeavouring  to  get  up  to  him  from  underneath, 


1 88  CANADIAN   NIGHTS 

because  he  is  certain  to  see  you.  The  only  chance, 
if  you  know  where  he  is  likely  to  be,  is  to  climb  up 
above  him  and  work  gradually  down  ;  then  you 
have  a  fair  likelihood  of  coming  upon  him,  for  he 
is  accustomed  to  look  below  for  danger. 

It  is  labour  lost  to  follow  their  tracks.  There  is 
a  certain  great  old  ram  that  I  know  of  which 
nobody  has  been  able  to  kill  yet.  I  have  never 
seen  him,  but  I  know  the  size  of  his  foot 
accurately. 

I  followed  him  all  day  once  some  years  ago, 
and  he  fooled  me  beautifully.  I  started  out  alone 
about  seven  o'clock  one  winter's  morning,  and  had 
not  ridden  more  than  three  or  four  miles  from  the 
house  in  Estes  Park  when  I  struck  a  very  large  sheep 
track  plainly  visible  in  the  snow.  I  followed  it  a 
little  while,  till  it  seemed  to  be  so  fresh  that  I  dis- 
mounted, tied  up  my  horse,  and  proceeded  on  foot. 
The  track  was  gigantic,  and  as  it  led  right  in  the 
direction  of  the  habitation  of  this  particular  old 
ram,  I  knew  it  must  be  his  foot ;  so  I  determined 
to  follow  him  all  day  if  necessary  on  the  chance  of  a 
shot.  I  left  my  bag  and  luncheon,  took  off  my 
coat,  and  prepared  myself  for  a  long  and  arduous 
climb. 

As  bad  luck  would  have  it,  the  sheep  was  travel- 


SHEEP-HUNTING  189 

ling  along  a  very  steep  mountain  side  all  covered 
with  loose  stones,  and  though  I  was  in  moccasins, 
which  are  the  best  wear  for  hunting,  I  could  not 
move  without  making  a  noise,  and  I  started  my 
sheep.  After  walking  about  half  an  hour  I  came  to 
the  place  where  he  had  started,  but  followed  on  all 
the  same,  in  the  hope  of  getting  sight  of  him,  and 
presently  came  to  another  spot  where  he  had  stood 
and  looked  about  him.  He  had  no  doubt  caught 
sight  of  me,  for  he  had  started  off  on  a  dead  jump 
straight  dov^Ti  a  very  steep  ravine,  at  least  a 
thousand  feet  deep  and  equally  precipitous  on 
the  other  side.  I  could  make  out  his  tracks  going 
down,  but  could  not  see  anything  of  him,  although 
I  sat  down  and  carefully  examined  the  opposite  face 
of  the  mountain  with  my  glasses.  So  down  I 
went,  and  presently  struck  his  tracks  again  going 
up  the  other  side.  It  was  a  terribly  hard  mountain 
to  climb.  It  had  once  been  clothed  with  a  thick 
covering  of  pine  trees  which  had  all  been  burnt  and 
blown  down,  and  the  ground  was  completely  strewn 
with  trunks  of  trees,  smooth  and  slippery.  I  do  not 
suppose  that  my  foot  touched  the  ground  one- 
fourth  of  the  distance,  for  I  was  obliged  to  walk 
along  the  trees,  and  hop  and  jump  from  one  to  the 
other,  after  the  manner  of  a  squirrel.     Added  to 


190  CANADIAN   NIGHTS 

which  inconvenience  there  was  about  a  foot  of  snow 
on  the  ground,  melted  by  the  heat  of  the  sun  and 
frozen    by  the   cold,  so   that   a   thick  crust    had 
formed,  just  strong  enough  to  bear  your  weight 
about  a  second,  then  let  you  through  plump  to  the 
ground.     It  was  terrible  ground  to  travel  over,  and 
it  exhausted  me,  but  I  was  in  hopes  it  exhausted 
the  sheep  also,  because  the  footprints  began  to  be 
deeply  dyed  with  blood,  showing  that  the  sheep 
was  cutting  himself  with  the  crust  on  the  snow.     I 
followed  and  followed  my  sheep,  now  and  then 
stopping  to  use  my  glass,  because  the  tracks  were 
so  fresh  that  I  fancied  he  ought  to  be  in  sight ; 
but   I   could  not  get  a  glimpse  of  him,   and   so 
imagining   that   he   must   be   further  off   than    I 
had  supposed,  I  still  followed  the  tracks  till  I  got 
near    the    top    of     a    mountain    which    forms    a 
ridge  or  oifshoot  from  the  gigantic  mass  of  Long's 
Peak. 

Near  the  top  of  this  ridge  was  a  notch,  through 
which,  as  I  got  nearer,  I  could  see  that  the  tracks 
led.  I  hurried  as  much  as  possible,  thinking  to 
myself  that  he  could  not  be  very  far  off,  and  that 
in  all  probability  when  I  got  to  the  top  and  looked 
down  through  the  notch  into  Willow  Park  beyond 
I  should  see  him  somewhere  below  me,  and  have 


SHEEP-HUNTING  191 

a  good   chance  of   a  shot,   or,   at  any   rate,  of  a 
stalk. 

When  I  reached  the  top  I  found  the  tracks  led 
down  through  the  notch  about  twenty  or  thirty 
yards,  and  then  stopped  ;  and  on  looking  about  me 
I  discovered  that  my  friend,  this  crafty  old  ram, 
had  gone  down  a  little  way  so  as  to  deceive  me,  had 
then  made  a  violent  leap  on  one  side,  gone  straight 
back  again  through  the  notch,  climbed  up  to  the 
top  of  a  pile  of  rocks  there,  and  no  doubt  had  been 
looking  at  me  and  laughing  as  I  toiled  laboriously 
up  the  hillside  after  him  until  I  got  unpleasantly 
near,  when  he  had  stared  off  in  the  direction  of  the 
top  of  Long's  Peak.  It  was  now  about  three  o'clock 
in  the  afternoon,  and  of  course  I  had  to  give  up  the 
chase  and  scramble  down  the  mountain  as  best  I 
could.  The  ground  was  so  dangerous  that  I  was 
obhged  to  go  very  carefully,  and  it  was  dark  before 
I  got  to  the  bottom  of  the  deep  ravine. 

I  was  very  tired  by  this  time,  having  been  up 
before  daylight,  and  working  hard  all  day  with 
nothing  to  eat ;  and  I  was  getting  awfully  cold 
also,  for  I  had  left  my  coat  behind.  However,  I 
had  to  climb  up  the  opposite  slope,  which  I  eventu- 
ally succeeded  in  doing,  and  then  had  to  look  for 
my  coat,  but  could  not  find  it  anywhere.     Then  I 


192  CANADIAN   NIGHTS 

searched  for  my  luncheon  bag,  but  could  not  find 
that  either. 

It  was  pitch  dark  by  this  time,  so  I  gave  up  the 
search  for  them,  and  began  to  look  for  my  horse, 
but  could  not  find  him. 

It  sounds  very  easy  to  remember  v^here  you 
left  your  horse,  and  to  find  him,  but  it  is  not  such 
a  simple  matter  when  it  is  pitch  dark,  when  there  is 
nothing  particular  to  mark  the  spot,  and  when  you 
have  the  whole  of  Colorado  to  look  in.  I  did  not 
know  what  to  do.  I  could  have  walked  back  in  two 
or  three  hours'  time,  and  would  have  done  so,  but 
I  was  afraid  to  leave  my  horse  out  all  night,  lest  he 
should  freeze  to  death.  He  was  not  hitched  up  by 
the  bridle  merely,  but  securely  fastened  with  a 
strong  new  lariat,  which  he  could  not  possibly  have 
broken,  so  I  kept  hunting  about  until  eventually  I 
found  the  poor  beast.  How  glad  he  was  to  see 
me !  No  doubt  he  had  made  up  his  mind  to  be 
deserted. 

It  was  a  difficult  job  to  get  home,  for  I  had  to 
lead  the  horse  a  long  way  down  the  hillside,  over 
ground  thickly  strewn  with  fallen  trees,  and  the 
night  was  pitch  dark.  I  blundered  and  stumbled, 
and  I  swore,  and  he  swore,  if  a  horse  can  swear, 
and  stumbled  and  blundered  ;    and  we  had  a  very 


SHEEP-HUNTING  193 

bad  time  of  it  altogether  till  we  got  on  more  level 
ground,  and  I  was  able  to  get  on  his  back  and  make 
rapid  progress.  We  reached  the  shanty,  pretty 
tired,  about  eleven  o'clock  at  night.  That  old  ram 
had  fooled  me  completely,  and  I  have  never  since 
had  a  chance  of  paying  him  out  for  it. 


N 


NEWFOUNDLAND    IN    THE 
'SEVENTIES 

ONE  fine  August  day  a  friend  of  mine  and 
'   I,  being  anxious  to  explore  the  hunting- 
grounds   of    Newfoundland,  embarked  on 
board  an  Allan  steamship,  and  after  a  somewhat 
boisterous  passage  found   ourselves   deposited    in 
the  city  of  St.  John's. 

St.  John's,  the  capital  of  Newfoundland,  is  re- 
markably well  situated  on  the  northern  side  of  a 
magnificent  harbour.  The  entrance  to  the  harbour 
is  through  a  very  narrow  passage  between  lofty, 
precipitous,  rugged  cliffs  ;  but  within,  the  haven 
expands  and  forms  a  perfectly  secure,  land-locked, 
and  commodious  shelter  from  the  wild  waves  that 
lash  those  inhospitable  shores.  The  most  notice- 
able point  about  the  city  is  that  all  the  manufactur- 
ing energy  of  the  population  appears  to  be  concen- 
trated in  the  making  of  long  fisherman's  boots,  and 
the  keeping  of  public-houses.  It  produces  seal  oil 
and  cod-fish,  and  consumes  rum  and  tobacco.     St. 

John's  is  a  busy,  thriving,  money-making  place,  and 

194 


NEWFOUNDLAND  IN  THE  'SEVENTIES    195 

the  prosperity  of  the  capital  of  the  oldest  colony 
of  Great  Britain  is  appreciated  by  the  traveller  long 
before  he  sets  foot  upon  her  classic  shores  ;  for  one 
side  of  the  harbour  smells  abominably  of  dried 
cod-fish,  and  the  other  of  seal  oil.  Judging  by  the 
accent,  there  must  be  a  large  mixture  of  Irish  blood 
in  the  population,  a  conjecture  which  is  not  con- 
futed by  the  fact  that  the  inhabitants  of  St.  John's 
and  of  the  outports — as  all  the  other  towns  and 
settlements  are  called — and  of  the  island  in  general, 
are  a  splendid  set  of  tall,  strong,  active,  healthy- 
looking  men.  Accustomed  from  childhood  to 
brave  the  hardships  of  a  most  rigorous  climate, 
drawing  their  sustenance  from  the  teeming  but 
treacherous  bosom  of  a  storm-vexed  ocean,  that 
rages  in  vain  for  ever  round  a  rugged  reef-bound 
coast ;  navigating  their  frail  and  ill-found  schooners 
amid  tempest,  ice,  and  fog,  the  Newfoundlanders 
have  developed  into  one  of  the  finest  seafaring 
populations  on  the  face  of  the  globe.  Nowhere  can 
better  mariners  be  found  than  among  the  hardy, 
adventurous,  self-reliant  men  who  ply  their  pre- 
carious calling  along  the  dangerous  shores  of  their 
native  island,  or  on  the  vnntry  coast  of  the  neigh- 
bouring mainland  of  Labrador. 

The  principal  industty  of  Newfoundland  is  the 


196  CANADIAN   NIGHTS 

cod-fishery,  and  the  chief  centre  of  the  trade  is  at 
St.  John's,  where  the  process  of  packing  and 
shipping  the  salted  fish  may  be  witnessed  to 
perfection.  The  fish,  having  been  dried  on  stages 
erected  for  the  purpose  on  the  shores  of  every 
bay  and  inlet  of  the  island,  are  brought  to  St. 
John's  in  small  schooners  and  throvm  in  heaps 
upon  the  wharves  of  the  merchants.  There  they 
are  culled  over,  sorted  into  three  or  four  piles 
according  to  their  quality  by  experienced  cullers, 
who  separate  the  good  from  the  indifferent,  and 
the  indifferent  from  the  bad,  with  great  rapidity 
and  unerring  skill.  Women  with  hand-barrows 
attend  upon  the  cullers,  carry  the  fish  into  an 
adjoining  shed,  and  upset  their  loads  beside 
barrels  standing  ready  to  receive  them.  A  couple 
of  boys  throw  the  fish  into  a  cask,  piling  them  up 
a  foot  or  so  above  the  brim,  mount  on  the  top,  and 
having  danced  a  war- dance  upon  them  in  their 
hob-nailed  boots  to  pack  them  down,  roll  the 
barrel  under  a  screw-press,  where  two  men  stand 
ready  to  take  charge  of  it.  Grasping  the  ends  of 
the  long  arms  of  the  lever,  the  men  run  quickly 
round  a  couple  of  times,  lift  their  feet  off  the 
ground,  and,  throwing  their  weight  on  the  lever 
to  add  impetus  to  the  blow,  swing  round  with  it, 


NEWFOUNDLAND  IN  THE  'SEVENTIES    197 

and  bring  down  the  stamp  with  a  dull  thud,  com- 
pressing the  cod-fish  into  a  compact  mass.  The 
cask  is  then  rolled  out  from  under  the  press,  and 
handed  over  to  two  coopers.  In  a  trice  the  hoops 
are  driven  on,  the  cask  is  headed  up,  and  then 
trundled  down  an  incline  into  the  hold  of  some 
vessel  loading  for  the  West  Indies  or  some  Mediter- 
ranean port.  The  rapidity  with  which  the  whole 
process  is  managed  is  remarkable. 

Sealing  operations  also  are  vigorously  conducted 
by  the  inhabitants  of  St.  John's.  In  former  days 
the  seal  fishery  was  carried  on  in  sailing  vessels, 
and  was  attended  with  considerable  danger  ;  but 
now  that  steamships  are  used  the  risk  is  much 
diminished.  The  paying  nature  of  the  business 
may  be  gathered  from  the  fact  that  steamers  of 
five  or  six  hundred  tons  burden,  built  and  fitted 
for  the  purpose,  and  quite  useless  for  any  other 
trade,  make  a  large  profit  in  average  years,  although 
the  sealing  season  lasts  only  a  month  or  six  weeks. 
Early  in  the  spring,  about  the  beginning  of  March, 
the  ice  from  the  north  strikes  in  towards  the 
eastern  coast  of  Newfoundland,  bringing  with  it 
hundreds  and  hundreds  of  thousands  of  seals,  young 
and  old.  Then  St.  John's  wakes  up,  and  the  whole 
island  is  in  a  bustle.    Though  it  entails  constant 


198  CANADIAN   NIGHTS 

exposure  to  great  cold,  and  extremely  hard  work, 
the  young  men  struggle  eagerly  to  secure  a  berth 
for  the  sealing  season,  for  they  earn  very  high  wages, 
and  the  business  is  salted  with  that  element  of  un- 
certainty and  danger  which  adds  such  a  relish  to 
life.  At  length  everything  is  ready,  and  a  fleet 
of  steamers  from  St.  John's,  and  of  sailing  craft, 
of  all  kinds  and  sizes  from  large  coasting  schooners 
down  to  open  boats,  issuing  from  every  bay,  start 
out  to  look  for  the  ice.  The  ships,  crowded  with 
as  many  men  as  they  can  hold,  make  two  trips  of 
about  a  fortnight's  duration  each ;  the  first  being 
devoted  to  the  capture  of  the  young  seals,  at  that 
time  only  a  few  weeks  old,  and  the  second  to  the 
destruction  of  the  full-grown  animals.  The  latter 
are  generally  shot,  while  the  former  are  knocked  on 
the  head  with  clubs.  As  soon  as  the  ice  is  reached, 
the  men  scatter  themselves  about  the  field,  running 
over  the  rough  surface,  jumping  from  block  to 
block  of  loose  ice,  tumbling  into  holes  and  scramb- 
ling out  again,  wild  with  excitement  in  their  search 
for  seals.  Each  man  acts  independently,  doing  the 
best  he  can  for  himself.  When  he  has  killed  a  seal 
he  stops  but  a  minute  to  whip  off  the  skin  with 
the  blubber  attached,  and  fasten  a  cord  to  it,  and 
then  off  again  after  another  seal,  till  he  has  got 


NEWFOUNDLAND  IN  THE  'SEVENTIES  199 

as  many  as  he  can  drag,  when  he  returns,  towing 
his  load  behind  him,  to  the  ship.  The  men  work 
with  a  will,  giving  themselves  scarcely  time  to  eat 
or  rest,  for  they  receive  a  share  of  the  profits 
according  to  the  number  of  seals  that  each  man 
brings  in,  and  if  the  season  is  successful,  an  active 
and  daring  man  will  make  a  large  sum  of  money. 
The  seals  are  valuable  only  for  the  oil  which  is 
tried  out  of  their  fat,  and  which  is  employed  for 
various  lubricating  purposes,  and  for  their  skins, 
which  are  tanned  and  used  principally,  I  believe, 
for  shoe  leather.  They  do  not  produce  the  pelt 
which,  when  plucked  and  dyed,  is  worked  up  into 
those  lovely  sealskin  jackets  that  are  as  destructive 
to  the  purse  as  they  are  delightful  to  the  eye. 
The  number  of  seals  brought  in  annually  is  very 
great,  as  many  as  500,000  having  been  killed  in  a 
single  season,  and  the  business  employs  nearly 
10,000  men.  What  becomes  of  the  multitude  of 
surviving  seals  is  a  problem  I  have  never  heard 
satisfactorily  solved.  The  ice,  on  which  they 
come  down  in  swarms  every  year  from  the  north, 
melts  during  the  summer  months  soon  after 
coming  in  contact  with  the  warm  waters  of  the 
GuH  Stream.  What  then  becomes  of  the  seals  ? 
Do  they  find  their  way  back  through  thousands 


200  CANADIAN   NIGHTS 

of  watery  miles  to  their  polar  birthplace,  or  do 
they  remain  scattered  about  along  the  shores  of 
Newfoundland  and  the  neighbouring  continent  ? 
It  is  a  problem  in  natural  history  similar  to  the  eel 
puzzle  at  home,  for  we  are  still  in  ignorance  as  to 
what  becomes  of  the  millions  of  full-grown  eels 
that  descend  our  rivers  with  each  autumn  flood, 
but  which  are  never  seen  reascending  the  stream. 

We  remained  some  days  in  the  interesting  city 
of  St.  John's,  much  enjoying  the  kind  hospitality 
of  our  friends,  but  waiting  somewhat  anxiously  for 
an  opportunity  to  get  a  lift  down  the  coast  to  the 
neighbourhood  of  our  proposed  hunting-grounds. 
The  regular  fortnightly  steamer  did  not  call  in 
anywhere  near  our  destination,  and  day  after  day 
passed  without  any  coasting  vessel  sailing  in  that 
direction.  From  this  dilemma  we  were  relieved 
by  the  kindness  of  a  judge  who  was  about  to  start 
on  his  circuit  in  one  of  the  harbour  tugs,  and  who 
very  good-naturedly  undertook  to  put  us  ashore 
at  the  mouth  of  the  river  we  wished  to  ascend. 
This  offer  was  most  thankfully  accepted,  and 
shortly  after,  my  friend  and  I,  with  three  Micmac 
Indians  from  Bay  of  Despair,  two  birch-bark 
canoes,  one  month's  provisions  and  a  very  limited 
supply  of  baggage,  steamed  out  of  the  picturesque 


NEWFOUNDLAND  IN  THE  'SEVENTIES    201 

harbour  of  St.  John's  in  the  august  society  of  the 
judge  and  all  the  functionaries  of  his  court.  The 
whole  court  was  there  assembled,  including  judge, 
barristers,  lawyers,  clerks,  and  all — everybody,  in 
fact,  except  the  criminals  and  the  jurymen  ;  and 
it  really  was  a  pity  they  could  not  have  been  pro- 
vided also  ;  it  would  have  saved  such  a  lot  of 
time  and  trouble.  As  far  as  I  could  see,  there 
was  very  Httle  work  for  the  court  to  do.  We 
would  stop  occasionally,  apparently  at  any  nice 
likely-looking  spot  for  a  malefactor,  and  send 
on  shore  to  see  if  there  was  any  demand  for  our 
commodity,  namely,  justice.  Generally  we  were 
informed  that  the  inhabitants  did  not  require  any 
just  at  present,  but  that  perhaps  if  we  would  call 
again  another  time  a  little  later,  we  might  be  more 
fortunate ;  and  then  we  would  give  three  hideous 
steam  whistles  by  way  of  a  parting  benediction, 
and  plough  our  way  through  the  yielding  billows 
to  some  other  settlement,  where,  if  we  were 
lucky,  the  court  would  divest  itself  of  oilskin 
coats  and  sou'-westers,  and  go  ashore  to  dispose 
of  the  case  or  cases  to  be  tried. 

We  were  a  very  jolly  party,  and  amused  ourselves 
by  lounging  about  the  little  deck  enjoying  the 
fresh  air  and  grand  wild  coast  scenery,   reading 


202  CANADIAN   NIGHTS 

"  dime  novels  "  and  playing  cards  in  the  stifling 
saloon  below,  where  we  were  veritably  "  cribbed, 
cabined,  and  confined " — stuffed  as  close  as 
herrings  in  a  cask.  There  was  something  rather 
comical  in  the  whole  proceeding.  To  my  insular 
and  antiquated  notions,  a  judge  is  an  awful  form 
clad  in  a  solemn  wig  and  wrapped  in  gorgeous 
robes  and  the  majesty  of  the  law,  and  barristers 
and  the  whole  personnel  of  a  court  of  justice  are 
superhuman  creatures,  extraordinary  mortals  to  be 
looked  upon  with  wonder  not  unmixed  with  awe ; 
and  to  see  eminent  counsel  staggering  about  the 
slippery  deck  in  long  boots  and  guernsey  frocks, 
and  the  highest  functionary  of  the  law  con- 
descending to  exchange  remarks  concerning  the 
weather  with  grimy  stokers  and  tarry-breeched 
seamen,  and  even  experiencing  inner  qualms  and 
spasms  when  our  little  ship  tossed  and  struggled 
across  some  wide  exposed  bay,  quite  destroyed  my 
illusions,  and  produced  a  feeling  of  somewhat 
irreverent  amusement.  The  mere  fact  of  the  judge 
going  his  circuit  in  a  tug-steamer  appeared  strange 
and  incongruous,  though  why  he  should  not  go 
in  a  steamer  just  as  naturally  as  in  a  train  or  a 
coach-and-four,  I  do  not  know.  Indeed,  it  was 
the  natural  mode  of  progression  in  Newfoundland, 


NEWFOUNDLAND  IN  THE  'SEVENTIES    203 

where  the  ocean  is,  or  was  at  the  time  of  my  visit, 
the  principal  highway.  Roads  in  those  days — and 
I  am  thinking  of  events  which  happened  some 
years  ago — there  were  none,  except  in  the  vicinity 
of  St.  John's  and  one  or  two  other  towns.  People 
who,  for  their  sins,  had  to  go  from  one  part  of  the 
island  to  another,  travelled  in  the  most  uncertain, 
vague,  and  promiscuous  manner,  sometimes  taking 
days,  weeks,  or  even  months,  in  accomplishing 
quite  a  short  distance,  and  sometimes  never  getting 
to  their  destination  at  all.  The  usual  method  of 
procedure  appeared  to  be  to  embark  in  the  coasting 
steamer,  and  go  ashore  as  near  the  place  you 
wished  to  visit  as  the  route  pursued  by  the  steamer 
would  permit.  The  traveller  might  by  that  means 
get  within  ten  or  twenty  or  fifty  or  one  hundred 
miles  of  his  destination,  as  the  case  might  be. 
He  would  then  betake  himself  to  a  house  or  cabin, 
if  there  happened  to  be  one  in  the  neighbourhood, 
and  wait  there,  or  he  would  build  a  big  fire  and 
sit  on  a  rock  until  some  coasting  schooner,  or 
fishing  smack,  or  open  boat  happened  to  pass  by, 
going  in  the  right  direction,  in  which  he  would 
embark  and  get  another  lift  upon  his  road.  By 
such  means  he  would  eventually  accomplish  his 
object  if  he  was  lucky ;   but  if,  unluckily,  no  craft 


204  CANADIAN   NIGHTS 

going  the  right  way  came  by,  he  would  be  com- 
pelled to  take  a  passage  in  some  vessel  or  boat 
bound  in  exactly  the  opposite  direction  to  that  in 
which  he  wished  to  move.  I  remember  we  called 
in  at  some  place  or  other — I  forget  the  name — on 
our  way  back  to  St.  John's,  after  our  hunting  ex- 
pedition, and  a  clergyman  came  on  board  begging 
for  a  passage.  "  I  understand,"  he  said,  "  that 
you  are  bound  round  the  north  end  of  the  island 
to  Halifax.  It  is  rather  out  of  my  way  to  go  there, 
it  is  true,  for  my  destination  is  a  few  miles  south 
of  this  ;  but  I  have  been  waiting  here  till  I  am 
sick  and  tired  of  it,  for  a  chance  of  a  lift  down  the 
coast,  and  I  shall  be  truly  obliged  to  you  if 
you  will  take  me  to  Halifax,  where  I  can  get  the 
fortnightly  Allan  steamer  to  St.  John's,  which 
will  be  better,  at  any  rate,  than  waiting  here  in- 
definitely." 

We  replied  that  we  were  bound  for  St.  John's  and 
not  for  Halifax,  as  he  had  supposed,  and  that  we 
should  be  delighted  to  take  him  on  board.  "  Oh," 
he  cried  joyfully,  "  that  is  charming,  it  will  suit  me 
much  better  of  course  to  go  straight  to  St.  John's. 
I  have  been  wandering  about  for  weeks  and  weeks 
trying  to  get  to  my  parish,  which  is  not  far  from 
here.     I  was  staying  in  St.  John's  on  a  visit  to 


NEWFOUNDLAND  IN  THE  'SEVENTIES    205 

some  friends,  when  I  received  a  message  saying 
that  one  of  my  parishioners  was  dead  and  required 
to  be  buried.     As  the  necessities  of  the  case  were 
pressing,  I  took  my  passage  in  the  coasting  steamer 
that  left  the  following  morning,  and  ought  to  have 
arrived  at  my  destination  the  same  night.    Un- 
fortunately,   however,    a    strong    off-shore    breeze 
sprang  up,  and  the  steamer  being  unable  to  call 
in  carried  me  some  distance  up  the  coast  to  the 
next  stopping- place.    Then    I  was  delayed  some 
days  till  I  got  a  lift  in  a  fishing  schooner,  but  she 
was  driven  by  stress  of  weather  into  some  little 
harbour  where  no  steamers  called,  and  eventually 
went  off  in  a  direction  that  did  not  suit  me  at  all. 
The  same  bad  luck  has  pursued  me  all  along,  and 
I  have  been  wandering  about  ever  since,  taking 
every  opportunity  offered  me  by  passing  coasting 
craft  or  fishing-boats ;    sometimes    being    carried 
miles   away,   sometimes   getting  pretty  near,   but 
never  succeeding  in  actually  reaching  my  journey's 
end.     As   the   season   is   getting  late   and  winter 
will  soon  be  upon  us,   I  made  up  my  mind  to 
abandon    the    attempt    for   the   present,    and   go 
round  with  you  to  Halifax,  if  you  would  take  me, 
and  so  back  to  St.  John's  to  finish  my  visit ;  for  as 
it  is  now  a  couple  of  months  or  so  since  my  services 


2o6  CANADIAN   NIGHTS 

were  required  to  bury  the  gentleman,  it  is  probable 
that  my  presence  is  no  longer  necessary  on  that 
account."  We  were  much  more  astonished  than  was 
our  guest  at  the  extraordinary  delays  and  troubles 
to  which  he  had  been  subjected,  but  after  be- 
coming a  little  better  acquainted  with  Newfound- 
land, we  perceived  that  there  was  nothing  so  very 
unusual  in  his  misfortunes  after  all,  and  that 
similar  experiences  were  looked  upon  with  a  calm 
and  philosophical  spirit  by  the  natives. 

It  was  late  in  the  afternoon  of  a  beautiful,  still, 
warm  autumn  day  that  the  Hercules  dropped 
her  anchor  in  the  Bay,  and  after  putting  us  safely 
ashore  with  our  Indians,  canoes,  and  baggage,  and 
after  three  hearty  cheers  and  three  hideous  ear- 
splitting  screams  from  the  whistle,  steamed  away 
out  to  sea  again  and  left  us  to  our  own  devices. 
There  was  quite  a  settlement  in  those  parts,  con- 
sisting of  a  small  saw-mill  and  house  adjoining  in- 
habited by  the  white  man  who  ran  the  mill,  and  of 
two  or  three  families  of  Indians,  all  rejoicing  in  the 
name  of  Joe.  The  head  of  the  tribe  was  old  Abra- 
ham Joe,  a  fine  specimen  of  his  race,  an  active  up- 
right man,  standing  about  six  feet  two  inches  in 
his  moccasins,  and  broad  and  strong  in  proportion. 
He  had  spent  nearly  all  his  life  in  Newfoundland, 


NEWFOUNDLAND  IN  THE  'SEVENTIES    207 

and  knew  the  interior  of  the  island  better  than  any 
man  living.  He  was  a  good  hunter,  trapper,  and 
guide,  but  he  was — well,  he  is  dead,  and  I  will  put  it 
mildly — he  had  the  bump  of  acquisitiveness  highly 
developed.  They  had,  I  should  imagine,  a  very 
pleasant  life,  these  Indians  ;  and  if  one  can  judge  by 
the  independence  of  the  men,  and  the  nature  and 
quality  of  the  clothing  worn  by  the  girls,  they  must 
have  been  very  well  off  in  this  world's  goods.  They 
had  comfortable  little  cabins,  in  which  they  spent 
the  winter  in  comparative  idleness,  earning  little 
or  nothing.  The  single  exception  to  this  rule  was 
in  the  case  of  one  of  old  Abraham  Joe's  sons,  who 
carried  the  mail  during  the  winter  and  spring 
months  between  St.  John's  and  the  copper-mines 
at  the  entrance  of  the  Bay.  He  was  well  paid,  and 
deservedly  so,  for  his  was  an  arduous  task.  Travel- 
ling on  snow-shoes  backwards  and  forwards  over  a 
distance  of  some  hundreds  of  long,  weary,  desolate, 
monotonous  miles,  over  bare  wind-swept  barrens, 
through  dense  pine  forests  and  thick  alder  swamps, 
without  a  mark  to  guide  or  a  hut  to  shelter  the 
traveller ;  tramping  on  alone  with  no  companion 
to  cheer  one  on  the  lonely  way,  without  the  chance 
even  of  seeing  a  human  being  from  one  end  of  the 
journey  to  the  other  ;   struggling  along  from  dawn 


2o8  CANADIAN   NIGHTS 

to  dark  of  the  short  wintry  days  against  snow, 
storm,  or  sleet,  or  in  the  bitter  cold  of  hard  frosty- 
weather  ;  crouching  through  the  long  nights  by  a 
solitary  fire  with  a  few  bushes  stuck  in  the  snow  for 
shelter ;  caught  perhaps  in  some  sudden  thaw, 
when  the  softened  snow  clogs  and  sticks  in  the 
netting  of  the  snow-shoes,  and  progress  is  almost 
impossible;  exposed  to  mal  de  raquette^  snow 
blindness,  and  all  the  chances  of  a  forest  life — such 
an  occupation  is  one  that  fully  deserves  to  be  well 
paid.  However,  the  activity  of  this  particular 
"  Joe  "  was  abnormal ;  the  rest  of  the  family  spent 
their  winters  lounging  about  the  beach,  making 
perhaps  a  few  mast  hoops,  butter  tubs,  or  fish 
barrels,  or  sitting  by  the  stove  indoors,  smoking 
their  pipes  and  doing  nothing.  In  the  summer  they 
fished  a  little,  and  in  the  autumn  the  whole  com- 
munity went  up  Indian  brook  and  spent  two  months 
in  the  interior  of  the  island,  shooting  and  trapping 
beavers  and  otters.  Fur  was  pretty  plentiful  in 
those  days,  and  a  man  could  make  a  good  income 
out  of  a  couple  of  months'  hard  work,  furring  in  the 
fall.  These  "  Joes  "  appeared  to  entertain,  to  a 
limited  extent,  communistic  principles,  while  par- 
tially recognising  at  the  same  time  the  right  of  pri- 
vate ownership  in  land  and  chattels.    They  would 


NEWFOUNDLAND  IN  THE  'SE\T£NTIES    209 

use  each  other's  boats,  canoes,  &c.  without  hesita- 
tion, but  spoke  of  them  nevertheless  as  belonging 
to  some  individual  member  of  the  sept.  They 
wandered  about  the  island  in  an  apparently  hap- 
hazard, aimless,  happy-go-lucky  way,  and  some 
member  or  other  of  the  family  was  always  turning 
up  at  odd  times  in  unexpected  places.  Some- 
times we  would  meet  a  Joe  striding  over  some 
barren  or  crossing  a  lake  in  his  canoe  ;  occasionally 
a  Joe  would  drop  into  our  camp,  miles  away  from 
anywhere,  unprovided  with  boat,  canoe,  provisions 
or  baggage  of  any  kind,  and  furnished  only  with  a 
pipe,  tobacco,  a  rusty  gun,  and  some  powder  and 
lead.  He  would  sit  down  quietly  by  the  fire  and 
chat  a  little  and  smoke  a  little,  and  after  a  while 
accept,  with  apparent  insouciance,  an  invitation  to 
eat  and  drink,  and  after  consuming  enough  food  for 
three  men  and  swallowing  a  few  quarts  of  tea, 
would  say,  "  Well,  I  suppose  I  shall  be  going  now. 
Adieu,  gentlemen,  adieu.  Yes,  I  guess  I  was  pretty 
hungry  ;  most  starved,  I  expect.  How  am  I  going 
to  cross  the  lake  ?  Oh,  that's  all  right ;  we — 
that's  old  Peter  John  Joe's  son,  and  I — got  a  canoe 
a  little  way  off  ;  mebbe  one,  two,  three,  four  miles  ; 
I'll  cross  in  her,  I  reckon.  Expect  likely  I'll  see 
you  again  by  and  by — I  shall  be  coming  out  again 

Q 


210  CANADIAN   NIGHTS 

about  the  end  of  this  moon."  "  Well,  good-bye," 
said  we,  "  but  where  are  you  going  to  ?  not  trap- 
ping, evidently,  because  you  have  got  no  traps." 
"  Yes,  I'm  a  going  a  trapping,  that's  so.  Not  far — 
mebbe  two  or  three  days  back  in  the  woods — 
beaver  pretty  plenty  there  ;  left  my  traps  there  last 
fall — no,  let  me  see,  fall  before  last,  I  guess." 
"  But  what  are  you  going  to  live  on  all  the  time  ?  " 
"  Oh,  I  got  plenty  grub,  no  fear  ;  not  much  tea, 
though  "  (showing  a  little  parcel  of  the  fragrant 
herb  knotted  up  in  a  corner  of  his  dirty  blanket), 
"  and  no  sweetening  :  mebbe  you  could  spare  a 
little  tea  and  sugar,  eh  ?  No  !  ah  well,  all  the 
same,  never  mind,  suppose  my  tea  give  out,  per- 
haps make  some  spruce  tea.  You  see  young  John 
Joe,  he  got  a  cache  yonder,  away  off  just  across  that 
blue  ridge,  about  one  day  or  one  day  and  a  half,  or 
mebbe  two  days'  journey,  plenty  flour  there ;  and 
young  Peter  John  Joe  and  old  John  Peter  Joe,  they 
cached  their  cooking-pots  on  the  little  stream  there, 
near  the  north  end  of  big  blueberry  pond.  See  you 
again  soon.  Adieu  !  "  and  after  a  few  words  in 
Micmac  to  our  Indians,  this  particular  Joe  would 
walk  off,  to  be  seen  no  more  till  he  reappeared  after 
some  time  with  half  a  canoe  load  of  beaver  skins,  or 
perhaps  to  turn  up  quite  unexpectedly  in  the  course 


NEWFOUNDLAND  IN  THE 'SEVENTIES    211 

of  a  day  or  two,  in  company  with  some  other  Joe 
whom  he  had  come  across  promiscuous-Hke  in  the 
woods.  Over  this  small  community  and  large 
territory  old  Abraham  Joe  ruled  after  the  manner  of 
a  feudal  lord,  settling  all  little  disputes  and  parcel- 
ling out  the  country  into  hunting-grounds  for  each 
individual  member  of  his  family.  Indians  are  very 
tenacious  of  their  territorial  rights  :  each  man 
has  his  own  hunting,  or  rather  furring,  ground 
accurately  marked  out  with  the  marches  carefully 
fixed,  perhaps  up  one  river  from  its  mouth  to  its 
source,  then  across  in  a  straight  line  through  the 
woods  to  some  other  creek,  and  down  that  stream 
to  such  and  such  a  lake,  and  so  on  ;  the  boundaries 
are  all  arranged  among  themselves,  and  it  is  con- 
sidered a  most  iniquitous  proceeding  for  one 
trapper  to  trespass  on  the  district  belonging  to 
another.  Their  system  of  land  tenure  is  similar 
to  that  of  most  primitive  peoples  in  tribal  times. 
They  consider  that  the  land  belongs  in  common 
to  the  clan,  but  each  member  has  a  certain  part 
of  it  allotted  to  him  for  his  temporary  use,  and  he 
possesses  a  limited  life- ownership  over  his  own 
particular  share.  Poor  old  Abraham  Joe  was  very 
unhappy  about  the  state  of  things  in  Newfound- 
land.   Too  much  civilisation  was  destroying  the 


212  CANADIAN   NIGHTS 

island,  in  his  estimation.  "  Yes,  sir,"  he  said  to 
me  one  day,  "  things  is  very  different  from  what 
they  used  to  be.  Lord  !  I  mind  the  times  when 
a  man  might  travel  from  one  end  of  the  island  to 
the  other  and  never  see  nobody  nowheres.  Beavers 
were  plenty  then,  and  there  was  a  good  price  for 
fur  too  ;  now  there  ain't  no  price,  and  beavers  and 
otters  ain't  plenty  like  they  used  to  be.    Those 

d lumbermen    be  come    up   the   rivers   and 

scare  the  game.  Why,  there  ain't  a  bay  scarcely 
anywheres  without  one,  mebbe  even  two  liviers  ^ 
in  it.  Yes,  sir,  it's  true ;  Newfoundland  he 
spoil,  too  much  people  come,  too  much  people 
altogether  in  the  country,  no  use  furring  any  more, 
no  price  now  for  beaver  skins,  very  bad  times  now, 
most  impossible  to  make  a  living.  Expect  you 
don't  want  that  axe-head,  do  you,  sir  ?  It  would 
come  in  very  handy.  I  lost  mine  the  other  day — 
head  flew  clean  off  the  handle  into  the  water.  Can't 
do  without  it,  can't  you  ?  Well,  never  mind ;  mebbe 
you  won't  want  to  take  your  canoes  out  of  the 
country.  I'd  like  to  trade  with  you  for  one  of 
them."  He  became  a  positive  nuisance,  did  the 
old   man,    about   the   axe-head,    and   followed   us 

^  A  "  livier  "  signifies  a  person  who  lives  all  the  year  round  in  a  locality, 
in  contradistinction  to  one  who  only  visits  it  during  the  fishing  season. 


NEWFOUNDLAND  IN  THE 'SEVENTIES    213 

about  for  days  on  the  chance  of  getting  it  for 
nothing,  pleading  awful  poverty,  at  the  same  time 
that  he  refused  an  offer  of  four  dollars  a  day  to 
come  with  us  for  a  short  time  hunting. 

The  sole  representatives  of  the  Joe  tribe  left 
at  home  on  the  evening  of  our  arrival  were  an  old 
woman  and  two  girls  of  about  eighteen  or  twenty, 
whose  clear  complexions  and  good  features  I  must 
suppose  were  to  be  accounted  for  by  some  mysteri- 
ous influence  exercised  by  the  superior  over  the 
inferior  race,  for  I  should  be  sorry  to  indulge  for 
a  moment  even  in  speculation  which  might  be 
derogatory  to  the  conduct  and  character  of  former 
generations  of  Joes.  On  inquiry,  we  found  that 
most  of  the  family  had  gone  off  some  days  before 
to  the  copper  mines,  to  solemnise  the  wedding  of 
a  couple  of  fond  and  youthful  Joes,  and  were 
expected  home  that  night.  About  midnight  they 
returned ;  two  large  whale-boats  full  of  them, 
rather  noisy  and  very  jovial.  The  unfortunate  but 
loving  Joes  had  not  succeeded  in  getting  married, 
as  the  priest,  who  was  expected  to  arrive  by  the 
coasting  steamer,  had  failed  to  put  in  an  appear- 
ance ;  but  nowise  discouraged  by  this  untoward 
event,  the  party  had  consumed  the  wedding 
breakfast,    wisely    deciding    that    the    ceremony 


214  CANADIAN   NIGHTS 

might  keep,  but  the  viands  would  not.  The 
bride  and  bridegroom  bore  their  disappointment 
with  a  philosophical  composure  to  be  found  only 
among  people  who  attach  no  value  whatever  to 
time.  In  answer  to  our  condolence  they  replied, 
"  Oh,  no  matter ;  mebbe  he  come  next  steamer, 
mebbe  in  two,  three  months,  mebbe  not  come  till 
next  year,"  and  dismissed  the  subject  as  though 
it  were  a  matter  of  no  importance  whatever  to 
them. 

We  tried  hard  to  obtain  the  services  of  some 
able-bodied  Joe,  but  they  were  all  bent  on  going 
into  the  woods  to  hunt  beaver  on  their  own 
account,  and  nothing  would  induce  any  of  the 
men  to  take  service  with  us.  We  might  have  had 
our  pick  of  the  women,  and  we  regretted  after- 
wards that  we  had  not  engaged  a  couple  of  girls. 
They  are  just  as  well  acquainted  with  the  country 
as  the  men  ;  they  can  paddle  a  canoe  and  do  all 
that  a  man  can,  except  carry  loads,  and  are  able 
to  fulfil  certain  duties  that  a  man  cannot — for 
instance,  they  can  cook,  tan  hides,  and  wash  and 
mend  clothes.  We  often  regretted  afterwards  that 
we  had  gone  into  the  country  without  a  guide. 
The  Joes  would  not  give  our  Indians  any  accurate 
instructions,  and  although  an  Indian  in  St.  John's 


NEWFOUNDLAND  IN  THE  'SEVENTIES    215 

had  explained  the  route  to  me  as  well  as  he  could, 
it  is  so  difficult  for  a  white  man  to  understand  an 
Indian's  description  of  a  country,  that  my  ideas 
on  the  subject  were  very  vague  and  hazy.  An 
Indian  thinks  little  of  the  points  of  the  compass, 
and  uses  them  very  inaccurately.  He  seems  to  rely 
rather  upon  the  prominent  landmarks  and  principal 
features  of  the  country  to  find  his  way  about,  and 
attempts  to  explain  the  route  by  reference  to 
solitary  pines,  high  hills,  hard  wood  ridges,  swamps, 
and  streams.  In  saying  that  a  river  runs  south- 
west, he  probably  is  taking  it  the  reverse  way, 
counting  from  the  mouth  to  the  source,  and  really 
means  that  it  has  a  north-east  course  ;  and  he  in- 
variably calls  all  the  tributaries  of  a  river  by  one 
and  the  same  name  :  a  fact  which  leads  to  infinite 
confusion.  However,  we  determined  to  trust  to 
luck  to  find  our  way  to  the  hunting-grounds,  and, 
after  spending  all  the  forenoon  in  patching  up 
canoes  and  arranging  the  baggage  in  suitable- 
sized  bundles,  we  made  a  start  late  in  the  after- 
noon, poled  up  to  a  picturesque  fall  some  four 
miles  from  the  mouth  of  the  stream,  made  our 
"  portage "  round  it  and  camped  for  the  night. 
It  was  a  lovely  evening,  and  we  thoroughly  enjoyed 
it   as  we  lay  on   our   comfortable   beds   of  sapin, 


2i6  CANADIAN   NIGHTS 

gazing,  through  the  transparent  walls  of  our  tent, 
at  the  moonlight  mingling  with  the  flickering 
flames  of  the  camp  fire,  listening  to  the  whisper 
of  the  wind  among  the  trees,  and  the  distant 
drowsy  varying  music  of  the  fall,  smoking  our  pipes 
in  placid  contentment,  delighted  that  at  last  we 
were  fairly  launched  into  the  woods. 

We  got  along  very  nicely  for  the  next  two  days, 
though  our  progress  was  not  rapid,  but  on  the  third 
day  the  brook  became  so  shallow  that  we  had  great 
difficulty  in  advancing  any  farther.  The  channel 
was  almost  dry  in  places,  and  we  had  to  wade  all 
day,  heaving  stones  out  of  the  way,  pushing  and 
pulling  our  heavily  laden  canoes  by  hand,  carefully 
manoeuvring  them  among  the  rocks,  and  wriggling 
our  way  very  slowly  up  the  lessening  stream.  It 
was  evident  that  we  must  be  near  the  head  of  navi- 
gation, and  my  companion  and  I  splashed  on  ahead 
in  the  bed  of  the  stream  to  look  out  for  the  "  por- 
tage." We  walked  and  walked  till  we  felt  sure 
that  we  must  have  passed  the  "  carry,"  and  were 
on  the  point  of  turning  back  when  I  espied  a  swarthy 
countenance  peering  cautiously  at  us  through  an 
alder  bush.  "  Bojour  !  "  said  we,  and  "  Bojour  !  " 
answered  old  Abraham  Joe,  emerging  from  his 
covert.     "  Where  are  you  going  to  ?  "     "  Well," 


NEWFOUNDLAND  IN  THE  'SEVENTIES    217 

we  replied,  "  we  don't  exactly  know  where  we  are 
going  to,  but  we  are  looking  for  the  '  portage.' 
Is  it  anywhere  near  here  ?  "  "  Yes,"  said  he, 
"  close  handy,  just  a  little  ways  up  the  stream. 
Water  very  low,  ain't  it  ?  Plenty  rain  pretty  soon, 
and  then  have  good  water  in  the  brook.  You 
going  hunting,  I  guess  ?  Not  much  good,  deer  all 
gone.  You  wait,  by  and  by  we  get  through  hunt- 
ing ;  mebbe  one  of  my  sons  show  you  where  to 
find  plenty.  Mebbe  I  go  with  you  myself,"  added 
the  old  man,  with  an  air  that  seemed  to  say, 
"  There,  just  think  of  that :  there's  a  chance  you 
don't  get  every  day  of  the  week."  We  camped  that 
night  on  the  portage,  and  the  next  day  "  carried  " 
over  to  a  neighbouring  lake  in  a  drenching  rain, 
and  pitched  our  tent  close  to  the  camp  of  the 
patriarch  and  certain  other  members  of  the  Joe 
family.  The  old  man's  prophecy  of  "  plenty  rain 
come  soon  "  was  abundantly  fulfilled  during  the 
next  three  days,  for  it  rained  and  blew,  and  blew 
and  rained,  the  whole  time  without  ceasing.  The 
natives  did  not  seem  to  mind  it  in  the  least,  but 
lounged  about  in  the  wet  as  unconcernedly  as  if 
water  was  their  natural  element.  I  remember 
going  over  to  old  Joe's  tent  one  morning  for  some- 
thing or  other,  and  finding  a  little  French  boy  that 


2i8  CANADIAN   NIGHTS 

he  had  with  him  lying  outside  by  the  dead  sodden 
ashes  of  the  fire,  in  a  most  uncomfortable  attitude, 
leaning  on  his  elbow  with  his  head  supported  by 
his  hand,  drenched  of  course  to  the  skin  through  his 
tattered  clothing,  and  shivering  with  cold,  but 
sleeping  soundly  all  the  same.  "  Why,  Joe,"  I  said, 
"  what  a  shame  to  keep  that  miserable  little  boy  out 
in  the  cold  and  wet  all  night."  "  Oh,"  he  replied, 
"  he  don't  mind  ;  he  hard,  hard  all  the  same  as  one 

d dog  :  do  him  good." 

We  remained  a  few  days  on  the  shores  of  the 
lake,  but  finding  no  sign  of  game,  crossed  to  the 
opposite  side,  made  a  short  "  portage  "  to  another 
lake,  traversed  that,  and  after  a  long  and  toilsome 
tramp  over  land  of  some  eight  or  ten  miles,  arrived 
at  what  we  hoped  would  prove  our  final  destination. 
What  a  lovely  hunting  country  it  was !  Not 
more  than  half  a  mile  from  our  camp,  which  was 
placed  in  a  nicely  sheltered  little  island  of  wood, 
rose  a  steep  hill,  which  commanded  an  unob- 
structed view  over  miles  of  open  country.  Bare, 
dry,  barren,  the  surface  principally  composed  of 
rock  covered  with  lichens  on  which  the  reindeer 
feed,  alternating  with  patches  of  softer  ground 
carpeted  with  the  beautiful  ivory  white  caribou 
moss,  shallow  pools  and  trickling  streams,  sheltered 


NEWFOUNDLAND  IN  THE  ^SEVENTIES    219 

depressions  in  the  plain  supporting  a  sparse  growth 
of  junipers  and  dwarf  pines,  combined  to  form  a 
perfect  paradise  for  game.  But,  alas  !  it  turned 
out  to  be  an  empty  Eden.  Day  after  day  we  wore 
out  our  moccasins  tramping  over  the  stony  ground, 
seeking  for  a  sign  but  finding  none ;  day  after  day 
we  climbed  the  look-out  hill  and  vainly  swept  the 
plain  with  our  glasses.  That  game  had  once  been 
abundant  was  very  evident,  for  the  plain  was  crossed 
in  all  directions  by  paths  worn  deep  into  the  surface 
by  the  countless  feet  of  constantly  passing  herds  of 
caribou,  but  now  rapidly  filling  up  through  long 
disuse.  Patches  of  sun-dried  clay  showed  footprints 
that  had  been  made  long  before  our  arrival ;  the 
tattered  bark  and  broken  branches  of  many  a  pine- 
tree  showed  where  a  great  stag  had  rubbed  his  horns, 
but  the  scars  were  all  old  and  brown  ;  numerous 
horns  lay  scattered  about  in  evidence  of  how  plen- 
tiful the  deer  must  have  been  at  one  time,  but  they 
were  bleached  by  the  sun,  weather-worn  and  half- 
consumed.  It  was  plain  enough  that  deer  had  once 
frequented  those  plains  in  great  numbers,  but  it 
was  equally  certain  that  not  a  deer  had  visited  them 
for  months.  The  great  barrens  on  which  we  were 
hunting — if  a  man  can  be  said  to  be  hunting  when 
there  is  nothing  to  hunt — stretch  nearly  right  across 


220  CANADIAN   NIGHTS 

the  island  from  east  to  west,  and  occupy  all  the 
country  from  north  to  south  between  Grand  Pond, 
a  magnificent  lake  of  some  eighty  miles  in  length, 
and  Red  Indian  Pond.  The  extent  of  hunting 
country  is  very  large ;  and,  thinking  that  surely 
there  must  be  some  herds  of  deer  out  on  the  barrens 
somewhere,  we  made  expeditions  from  the  main 
camp  of  a  day  or  two's  journey,  and  thoroughly 
searched  the  country  in  all  directions.  It  was  in 
vain  ;  not  a  fresh  track  did  we  find.  We  proved 
that  there  was  not  a  herd  of  caribou  within  twenty 
miles  or  more  of  us,  and,  after  spending  a  fortnight 
of  our  valuable  time  in  a  most  unprofitable  manner, 
we  packed  up  our  goods,  and  with  weary  and  dis- 
pirited steps  returned  to  our  canoes,  made  the  best 
of  our  way  back  to  Joe's  camp,  and  after  resting  a 
day,  started  in  the  teeth  of  a  fierce  gale  for  Grand 
Pond. 

Our  course  led  us  through  a  splendid  game 
country.  We  camped  at  nights  in  the  very  passages 
through  which,  in  former  days,  the  caribou  used  to 
pass  in  countless  numbers  during  their  annual 
autumn  migration  from  the  north  to  the  south  side 
of  the  island,  but  we  were  a  day  too  late  for  the  fair. 
Lumber-men  were  cutting  timber  on  the  shores  of 
Deer  Pond  and  raf ting  it  down  the  broad  current 


NEWFOUNDLAND  IN  THE  'SEVENTIES    221 

of  the  Humber  ;  white  men  had  invaded  those 
solitudes,  and  the  caribou  had  abandoned  them  in 
disgust.  We  made  a  nice  camp  at  the  north  end 
of  Grand  Pond  at  the  mouth  of  a  little  stream 
from  which  a  faint  trail,  blazed  some  ten  or  perhaps 
twenty  years  before  by  a  wandering  Indian,  led  up 
through  the  pine  woods  to  the  open  barren  above, 
and  there  we  stayed  for  a  week,  during  which  time 
we  saw  three  hinds  and  killed  one  of  them.  The 
flesh  was  welcome,  for  we  had  been  living  all  the 
time  on  beaver  meat ;  but  what  we  wanted  was  one 
or  two  of  the  gigantic  heads  for  which  the  New- 
foundland stags  are  so  famous  ;  and  as  it  did  not 
appear  likely  that  we  should  be  successful  in  that 
district,  we  packed  up  for  the  third  time,  paddled 
some  ten  or  twelve  miles  down  the  lake,  lugged  our 
tent,  bedding,  and  cooking  things  up  a  steep  hill- 
side, and  camped  just  on  the  edge  of  the  barren, 
about  a  thousand  feet  above  the  lake,  determined 
to  make  one  more  attempt.  The  next  morning 
my  friend,  accompanied  by  one  of  our  Indians, 
started  in  one  direction,  while  young  Joe  John — 
who  had  joined  us  for  a  few  days — and  I  tried  our 
luck  in  another. 

It  was  a  lovely  morning  as  we  cleared  the  woods 
and  emerged  upon  the  open  breezy  barren.    The 


222  CANADIAN   NIGHTS 

sky  was  cloudless  :  we  could  see  for  miles  round 
to  the  south  of  us  and  across  the  lake  to  the  north, 
but  the  surface  of  the  water  was  hidden  by  a  veil — 
not  of  mist,  but  of  thick  solid-looking  cloud.  The 
effect  was  curious,  for  the  whole  valley  of  the  lake 
was  filled  with  a  bank  of  white  motionless  cloud, 
so  level  that  it  looked  as  if  the  water  had  been 
turned  into  milk.  Suddenly,  as  the  sun  rose 
higher,  this  mass  began  to  move — to  roll  about 
and  lift  a  little  in  places — and  then,  almost  instan- 
taneously, it  all  broke  up,  curled  off  in  wreaths, 
vanished  in  thin  air,  and  disclosed  the  placid 
deep-blue  surface  of  the  water  beneath.  We  had 
not  walked  far  before  we  discovered  three  stags 
standing  distinct  against  the  sky-line  on  a  distant 
ridge.  The  ground  was  so  level  and  so  bare  of 
cover,  that  it  was  impossible  to  get  near  them  un- 
perceived,  and  I  was  obliged  to  content  myself 
with  a  long  shot.  I  fired  both  barrels,  and,  to  my 
disgust,  saw  all  three  deer  trot  quietly  off  together. 
After  a  while  they  wheeled  round  and  stood 
looking  back  to  see  what  was  the  matter,  and  gave 
me  a  chance  for  another  long  shot,  which  seemed  to 
satisfy  their  curiosity,  for  they  turned  at  once 
and  disappeared  over  a  little  rise.  An  expression 
more   emphatic   than   polite   escaped   my   lips,    I 


NEWFOUNDLAND  IN  THE  'SEVENTIES    223 

fear  ;  but  Joe  only  smiled,  and  said,  "  How  many- 
deer  went  over  the  rise  ?  Three,  eh  ?  I  only  see 
two  now  going  up  the  other  side  :  one  stop  down 
in  the  hollow ;  mebbe  you  hit  him,  or  what  he 
stop  down  there  for  ?  "  "By  Jove !  Joe,  you  are 
right,"  cried  I.  "  Let's  after  him."  "  No,  no  ; 
he  all  right — he  safe  enough ;  bound  to  get  him 
by  and  by.  Let's  go  after  the  other  two.  They 
won't  go  far,  not  much  scared — no  wind,  you 
know — and  not  much  afraid  of  the  noise."  The 
stags  in  truth  were  not  much  alarmed,  and  more- 
over they  were  so  fat,  so  preposterously  fat,  that 
they  literally  could  scarcely  run  away ;  and  after 
a  very  hard  chase,  keeping  ourselves  as  much  as 
possible  out  of  sight,  we  got  within  range  again 
and  bagged  another  stag.  While  Joe  was  engaged 
upon  the  dead  body  of  the  deer,  I  noticed  some 
object  moving  a  long  way  off,  and  with  the  glass 
made  out  two  men,  one  looking  towards  us,  while 
the  other  was  stooping  and  working  at  something 
on  the  ground.  "  Hurrah,  Joe  !  "  said  I,  "  they 
have  got  the  other  one.  Not  a  bad  bag  after  all, 
to  finish  up  an  unsuccessful  hunt.  Luck  has 
turned  at  last.  Plenty  of  fresh  meat  for  supper 
to-night,  Joe."  "  Yes,"  muttered  Joe,  with  his 
bloody  knife  between  his  teeth,  "  glad  of  it  too. 


224  CANADIAN   NIGHTS 

I  have  not  tasted  a  bit  of  fresh  meat  this  year  : 
most  tired  of  chewing  beaver  meat ;  you  got  two 
days  more,  eh  ?  Well,  we  go  out  again  to-morrow  ; 
leave  the  other  men  to  fetch  the  meat  in  and 
mebbe  get  something  more.  Suppose  you  let  me 
have  the  skins  to  make  snow-shoes  :  must  beat 
out  for  something  to  make  snow-shoes  this  winter. 
No  deer  left  in  this  country  now."  So  Joe  worked 
away  gralloching  the  deer,  while  I,  having  made  a 
little  smudge  of  dry  lichens  and  moss  to  windward 
to  keep  off  the  swarms  of  black  flies  that  pestered 
us,  smoked  my  pipe,  happy  in  the  certainty  that 
we  should  not  suffer  the  disgrace  of  returning  to 
St.  John's  quite  empty-handed. 

Scarcely  had  Joe  and  I  got  well  away  from  the 
camp  next  morning,  when  such  a  blinding  storm 
of  rain  came  on  that  we  were  compelled  to  make 
a  little  shelter  for  ourselves  among  some  dwarf 
junipers  and  wait  till  it  was  over.  We  lit  a  little 
fire,  boiled  some  water  in  a  pannikin,  brewed  some 
tea,  and  talked  about  hunting  until  the  clouds 
lifted  and  enabled  us  to  see  our  way  about  the 
country ;  but  the  best  part  of  the  day  was  gone, 
and  we  had  to  return  to  camp  without  seeing 
anything  or  even  a  fresh  track.  The  day  following 
we   were   obliged   to   set   out  on    our   homeward 


NEWFOUNDLAND  IN  THE  'SEVENTIES    225 

journey,  for  we  had  left  ourselves  only  just  time 
enough  to  catch  the  tug  steamer  which  was  to 
call  for  us  in  the  bay,  even  by  travelling  almost 
night  and  day ;  but  as  I  was  loath  to  quit  the 
country  without  one  more  try,  Joe  and  I  cHmbed 
up  to  the  barren  before  daylight,  leaving  the 
others  to  pack  up,  carry  the  baggage  and  meat 
down  to  the  lake,  and  get  everything  ready  for  a 
start  in  the  afternoon.  Joe  got  the  best  of  me 
that  day  to  the  extent  of  twenty-five  dollars,  the 
villain.  We  had  walked  for  hours  without  seeing 
a  thing,  when  he  remarked  in  a  casual  manner, 
"  You  have  not  seen  no  bears,  have  you,  since 
you  came  in  the  island  ?  "  "  No,  Joe,"  I  replied, 
"  not  even  a  sign.  I  should  have  thought  bears 
would  have  been  plenty  enough  ;  there  is  lots  of 
feed  for  them,  goodness  knows,  for  the  whole 
barren  is  covered  vdth  blueberries ;  but  they 
seem  to  be  very  scarce."  "  Yes,"  answered  Joe, 
"  bear's  awful  scarce  in  Newfoundland,  but  I 
think  I  know  a  place  where  we  might  find  one, 
only  I  ain't  got  much  time ;  want  to  get  back  to 
my  beaver  trapping,  you  know.  What  you  give 
me  if  I  show  you  a  bear  ?  "  "  Oh,  well,"  I  said, 
"  I  don't  know ;  there  is  no  chance  of  that  now ; 
but  I  would  give  a  five-pound  note  for  a  shot  at  > 


226  CANADIAN   NIGHTS 

a  bear  if  we  had  time  to  look  for  one."  "  All 
right,"  said  Joe ;  "  suppose  I  show  you  a  bear 
within  shot,  you  give  me  five  pounds,  eh  ?  " 
"  Yes,  Joe,  certainly  I  will,"  replied  I.  "  That's 
sure,  eh  ?  "  "  Yes."  "  Well,  look  yonder."  And 
following  the  direction  of  Joe's  extended  hand,  I 
saw  a  little  black  speck  moving  about  near  the 
summit  of  a  neighbouring  mountain.  "  Oh,  I 
say,  Joe,  that  is  rather  too  bad,"  I  remonstrated. 
"  I  could  have  seen  him  just  as  well  as  you,  and 
got  up  to  him  too,  for  that  matter.  However,  a 
bargain  is  a  bargain,  so  let  us  go  for  him."  The 
ground  was  very  bare  and  open,  but  Bruin  (or 
"  Mouin,"  as  the  Indians  call  him)  was  so  busily 
engaged  eating  blueberries,  that  he  allowed  us  to 
crawl  up  pretty  near.  I  had  to  wait  some  time  for 
a  shot,  for  the  bear  would  not  stand  still  for  a 
second,  but  kept  turning  himself  about  restlessly, 
moving  rapidly  from  bush  to  bush,  grumbling  to 
himself  the  while — complaining,  no  doubt,  about 
the  scarcity  of  berries  that  autumn  and  the  diffi- 
culty of  filling  his  ravenous  inside.  At  last  I  got 
a  good  opportunity,  but  made  a  bad  shot,  striking 
the  animal  too  low  down  on  the  shoulder,  and 
only  breaking  his  leg.  With  a  violent  snort  of 
pain  and  astonishment,  but  without  looking  round 


NEWFOUNDLAND  IN  THE  'SEVENTIES  227 

for  a  second  to  see  what  was  the  matter,  away 
went   "  Mouin "    down   the   mountain   side   at    a 
most   surprising   pace.     "  Come   on,"   yelled  Joe. 
"  Try  and  head  him  off ;    if  he  once  gets  down 
into  the  timber  he  is  gone  sure."     And  away  we 
went  after  him  as  hard  as  we  could  tear.    How 
Joe  jumped  and  bounded  and  yelled,  and  how  the 
bear  did  put  out  down  that  hill-side  !     He  seemed 
to  go  twice  as  fast  on  three  legs   as  any  other 
animal  ever  went  on  four.     Sometimes  Joe  would 
head  the  bear  and  turn  him,  sometimes  the  bear 
would  make  a  drive  at  Joe  and  turn  him,  which 
would  give  me  time  to  get  up ;    and  so  we  went 
on  yelling  and  whooping  and  plunging  through  the 
tangled  matted  junipers,   the  bear   doubling  and 
twisting,  and  sometimes  charging  us,  but  always 
struggling   gallantly    to    gain    the    shelter    of    the 
woods.     We  had  the  best  of  Bruin  as  long  as  we 
were  on  the  bare  ground  near  the  top,  but  when 
we  got  among  the  junipers  growing  horizontally 
like  creepers  along  the  ground,  not  rising  more 
than  three  or  four  feet  above  the  surface,  but  with 
stems  as  thick  as  your  leg,  and  interlacing  branches 
as  hard  and  springy  as  steel,  then  the  bear  got  so 
much  the  best  of  us,  that  we  feared  we  should 
lose  him.     Now  and  then  I  would  get  a  shot,  but 


228  CANADIAN   NIGHTS 

shooting  under  such  circumstances  is  chance  work, 
and  I  missed  the  bear  several  times,  until  at  last 
with  a  lucky  shot  I  rolled  him  over,  and  Joe  and  I 
threw  ourselves  down  exhausted  beside  his  dead 
body.  Joe's  first  action  was  to  be  violently  sea- 
sick ;  he  then  sat  him  down  on  a  rock,  filled  and 
lit  his  pipe,  and  gasped  out,  "  Oh,  I  thought  we 
should  have  taken  off  our  breeches  !  "  I  stared  at 
Joe,  thinking  his  exertions  had  produced  a  fit  of 
temporary  insanity,  and  said,  "  Why,  Joe,  what 
on  earth  should  we  take  off  our  breeches  for  ?  " 
"  What  for  ? — Why,  suppose  you  not  got  any 
breeches  on,  you  run  heap  faster.  Best  always 
take  'em  off  before  shooting  at  a  bear  :  he  run  such 
a  devil  of  a  pace  if  you  only  wound  him."  And  so, 
having  rested  a  little  and  skinned  our  bear,  and 
packed  the  hide  and  some  meat  on  our  backs,  we 
scrambled  down  to  the  shore,  chucked  our  burdens 
into  the  canoes  lying  ready  laden,  and  paddled  off 
under  the  light  of  a  rising  moon. 

Our  canoes  were  deep  in  the  water.  A  straight 
course  led  us  far  from  shore,  and  once  or  twice  my 
heart  leaped  into  my  throat  with  a  horrid  feeling 
of  apprehension,  at  the  sudden  unearthly  scream 
of  a  startled  loon,  sounding  exactly  like  a  human 
shriek  of  agony  denoting  the  capsize  of  one  of  the 


NEWFOUNDLAND  IN  THE  'SEVENTIES    229 

following  canoes  ;  but  no  such  untoward  accident 
occurred,  and  after  some  hours  of  paddling  we 
drew  up  our  boats  at  our  old  camp  near  the  head 
of  the  lake,  made  a  fire,  cooked  and  ate  our  supper, 
and  after  a  couple  of  hours'  sleep  started  again 
the  following  morning,  about  two  hours  before 
dawn.  We  had  hard  work  on  that  day's  journey. 
The  river  was  very  rapid  :  our  course  lay  up 
stream,  and  we  had  to  pole  all  the  way.  It  is  not 
easy  for  a  novice  to  stand  upright  in  a  small 
birch-bark  canoe,  but  after  a  little  practice  he 
gets  his  canoe  legs,  and  learns  not  only  to  balance 
himself  without  danger  to  the  frail  craft,  but  to 
exert  in  safety  the  whole  of  his  strength  in  forcing 
her  up  some  rapid  stream.  It  is  astonishing  to 
see  the  apparent  ease  with  which  two  good  men 
will  drive  a  canoe  up  a  rapid.  They  approach  it 
in  the  same  way  as  does  a  fish,  stealing  quietly  up, 
husbanding  their  strength,  and  taking  advantage 
of  every  little  eddy  to  get  as  close  to  the  fall  as 
possible ;  and  then  make  a  rush  out  into  the 
stream  without  any  hurry,  plashing,  or  confusion, 
but  with  quiet,  methodical,  concentrated  strength. 
Once  out  in  the  full  force  of  the  current,  and  the 
struggle  begins.  For  a  few  yards  the  momentum 
of  the  canoe  carries  her  on  ;    then  she  stops,  the 


230  CANADIAN   NIGHTS 

men  throw  their  whole  weight  upon  their  poles, 
that  bend  beneath  them  and  tremble  in  the 
glancing  stream  ;  the  water  hisses  by  the  side, 
and  curls  up  in  front  of  the  prow  as  the  canoe  is 
forced  up  inch  by  inch  against  the  tide.  Hold  on 
now  in  the  stern,  while  the  bow-man  takes  a  fresh 
hold.  Down  slips  the  canoe  half  a  fathom,  while 
the  man  in  the  stern  snatches  his  pole  from  the 
water  and  drives  it  fiercely  down  again  and  holds 
her  up  once  more  against  the  torrent.  Perhaps  his 
pole  slips,  or  gets  jammed  between  two  stones,  or 
in  spite  of  all  their  efforts  to  keep  her  end-on  to 
the  stream,  the  boat's  head  slews  a  little  on  one 
side,  and  away  you  float  helplessly  down  stream, 
only  to  make  another  effort,  and  if  necessary 
another  and  another,  until  the  obstacle  is  over- 
come. At  last  it  is  overcome  :  inch  by  inch,  foot 
by  foot,  yard  by  yard,  the  quivering  bark  struggles 
up,  till  with  a  final  powerful  shove  she  is  lifted 
over  the  break  of  the  fall,  and  glides  into  still 
water  above.  The  three  principles  of  poling  are ; 
first,  never  to  put  out  your  strength  until  you 
know,  by  the  feel  of  it,  that  your  pole  is  firmly 
fixed,  and  does  not  rest  on  some  loose  or  smooth 
and  slippery  stone.  Secondly,  to  be  careful  to 
exert  your  force  in  a  line  parallel  with  the  keel  of 


NEWFOUNDLAND  IN  THE 'SEVENTIES    231 

the  canoe,  and  to  keep  your  pole  perpendicularly 
under  you,  so  that  you  can  draw  the  canoe  towards 
it  or  push  her  away,  according  as  you  may  wish. 
If  you  plant  your  pole  too  far  out  or  too  much 
under  the  canoe,  and  throw  your  weight  across 
her  or  hang  over  on  your  own  side,  a  capsize  is 
probable,  if  not  inevitable.  Thirdly,  if  your  pole 
gets  jammed  and  you  cannot  snatch  it  out  in  a 
second,  let  go  instantly ;  for  if  you  hold  on  and 
drag  at  it,  either  the  canoe  will  upset  or  she  will 
slip  in  the  most  miraculous  manner  from  under 
your  feet,  and  you  will  find  yourself  suspended 
for  a  second  in  space,  and  then  plunged  into  a 
raging  flood. 

We  made  camp  early  that  afternoon,  for  the  work 
had  been  very  severe,  and  we  needed  rest ;  but 
seeing  a  lot  of  salmon  on  the  shallows,  we  deter- 
mined, in  spite  of  fatigue,  to  do  a  little  bit  of  poach- 
ing and  burn  the  water  before  turning  in.  An 
Indian  fish-spear  is  a  very  simple  affair,  but  it  is  far 
superior  to  any  civilised  instrument  of  the  same  kind. 
It  consists  of  a  straight  iron  spike  about  six  inches 
long,  let  into  the  end  of  a  pole  of  ash,  or  some  other 
heavy  wood,  and  two  wooden  jaws  lashed  one  on 
each  side  of  the  spike.  These  jaws  must  be  made 
of  some  tough  elastic  material,  and  are  so  shaped 


232  CANADIAN   NIGHTS 

as  to  be  furnished  with  broad  barbs  on  the  inner 
sides.  There  is  a  space  of  about  six  inches  be- 
tween the  points  of  the  jaws,  which  project  an  inch 
or  two  be7ond  the  end  of  the  iron  spike,  but  the 
barbs  are  not  more  than  a  couple  of  inches  apart ; 
beyond  and  inside  the  barbs  the  jaws  open  out 
again  to  a  breadth  of  about  four  or  five  inches. 
When  a  fish  is  fairly  struck,  the  wooden  jaws  ex- 
pand, the  iron  spike  transfixes  him,  the  weight  of 
the  blow  forces  him  up  above  the  barbs,  and  the 
jaws,  closing  in  again,  hold  him  as  fast  as  though  he 
were  in  a  vice.  This  kind  of  spear  is  very  light  and 
handy.  It  holds  a  salmon  as  securely  as  any  lyster, 
and  it  does  not  gash  and  mangle  the  fish.  The 
material  for  the  wooden  portion  of  our  spear  was 
not  difficult  to  procure,  but  we  were  puzzled  to 
find  anything  that  would  do  for  the  indispensable 
iron  spike,  and  at  last  had  to  make  up  our  minds  to 
sacrifice  the  handle  of  the  frying-pan.  No  sooner 
said  than  done.  In  a  few  minutes  the  rivets  were 
knocked  out,  and  the  handle  stuck  in  the  embers  of 
the  fire.  While  some  of  us  were  manufacturing 
the  spike  by  beating  out  the  handle  on  an  axe-head 
and  afterwards  grinding  it  to  a  sharp  point  on  a 
smooth  stone,  one  of  the  Indians  was  hard  at  work 
making  the  pole  and  jaws  with  his  hatchet  and 


NEWFOUNDLAND  IN  THE  'SEVENTIES    233 

crooked  knife.  With  these  two  implements  an 
Indian  will  make  anything.  I  have  often  watched 
with  admiration  a  man  fell  a  maple-tree,  and  in  an 
hour  or  two  turn  out  a  smooth,  delicately  poised, 
accurately  shaped  axe-haft  or  paddle,  with  the  help 
of  no  other  tools  than  his  axe  and  his  crooked 
knife,  an  instrument  which  he  generally  makes  for 
himself  out  of  a  file,  and  which  resembles  in  shape 
the  drawing  knife  of  a  shoeing  smith.  There  is  one 
pecuHarity  about  the  red  man  worth  mentioning, 
namely,  that  in  using  a  knife  he  invariably  cuts 
towards  his  body,  while  a  white  man  always  cuts 
away  from  his.  The  Indians  of  all  the  coast  pro- 
vinces are  skilful  workmen  with  the  crooked  knife, 
and  earn  a  good  deal  of  money  by  making  butter 
firkins,  tubs,  mast-hoops,  and  various  articles  of  a 
similar  nature. 

By  sunset  we  had  finished  our  spear,  and  had 
collected  a  good  supply  of  birch  bark ;  and  as  soon 
as  it  was  dark  a  couple  of  us  launched  a  canoe,  and 
after  lighting  a  bunch  of  birch  bark  stuck  in  a  cleft 
stick  in  the  bow  of  the  boat  to  act  as  a  torch, 
started  on  our  poaching  expedition.  We  all  of  us 
had  a  turn  at  spearing,  and  most  comical  attempts 
we  made.  An  empty  canoe  is  possessed  by  a  most 
maHgnant  spirit  of  perversity  :    it  floats  light  as  a 


234  CANADIAN   NIGHTS 

dry  leaf  upon  the  water,  and  spins  round  and  round, 
and  insists  on  going  in  the  wrong  direction,  and 
displays  a  propensity  to  slip  suddenly  from  under 
your  feet,  and  in  fact  behaves  altogether  in  a  very 
fickle  and  cantankerous  manner.  Mishaps,  though 
frequent,  were  only  ludicrous  ;  for  the  water  was 
shallow,  salmon  were  numerous,  and  in  spite  of  our 
awkwardness  we  had  fresh  fish  for  supper  that  night. 
We  made  good  progress  next  day,  and  arrived  at  our 
old  camp  on  the  first  lake  about  sunset.  It  rained 
in  perfect  torrents  that  night,  and  we  had  a  most 
uncomfortable  time  of  it,  carrying  across  to  Indian 
Brook.  The  water  had  fallen  so  much  since  we 
were  there,  that  we  found  it  necessary  to  make  a 
portage  of  six  miles  instead  of  two,  so  as  to  strike 
the  river  lower  down.  It  is  no  joke  carrying 
canoes  six  miles  over  a  rough  ground,  and  though 
our  Indians  worked  splendidly,  it  did  not  want 
many  hours  to  davm  by  the  time  we  had  got  every- 
thing across,  and  were  changing  wet  clothes  for 
damp  ones,  and  trying  to  dry  ourselves  before  a  huge 
fire,  under  the  partial  shelter  of  a  hastily  arranged 
lean-to.  If  we  had  only  known  that  it  was  going  to 
rain  so  hard,  we  might  have  been  spared  the  trouble 
of  making  the  long  portage,  for  when  day  broke  we 
found  the  stream  had  risen  at  least  a  foot,  and  was 


NEWFOUNDLAND  IN  THE  'SEVENTIES    235 

coming  down  in  a  torrent  that  bore  us  rapidly 
towards  the  sea.  It  was  getting  dusk  when  we 
approached  the  most  ticklish  part  of  the  naviga- 
tion :  we  might  truthfully  have  sung — 

"  Row,  brothers,  row,  the  stream  runs  fast. 
The  rapids  are  near  and  the  daylight  past "  ; 

and  under  any  other  circumstances  we  would  have 
camped  for  the  night ;  but  we  were  so  anxious  to 
save  our  time  with  the  steamer,  that  we  determined 
to  chance  the  rapids,  and  kept  on  our  way  after 
dark.  It  was  a  lovely  night — a  night  the  very 
memory  of  which  is  soothing  to  the  heart :  a  night 
such  as  can  be  seen  only  in  high  latitudes  ;  for,  in 
spite  of  all  the  poetry  that  has  been  written  on  the 
subject,  I  maintain  that  no  sultry  southern  night 
can  compare  in  beauty  with  the  great  glory  of  the 
moonlit  or  star-studded  heavens  revealed  through 
the  clear  and  frosty  atmosphere  of  the  icy  north. 
The  broad  friendly  moon  rose  above  the  pine  trees, 
climbed  up  among  the  stars,  drowning  their  feeble 
beams  with  a  deepening  flood  of  radiance,  and 
hung  suspended  in  the  heavens,  a  globe  of  mellow 
light,  searching  out  the  secrets  of  the  forest,  shining 
white  on  some  fir-tree  bleached  and  dead,  throwing 
black  and  awful  looking  shadows  from  the  living 


236  CANADIAN   NIGHTS 

pines,  glimmering  on  the  ragged  bark  and  creamy 
stems  of  birch-trees,  casting  the  river  fringe  of 
alders  into  deepest  gloom,  tracing  bands  of  silver 
across  still  reaches  of  the  stream,  dancing  and 
flickering  on  the  rapids,  glittering  like  diamonds  on 
frozen  raindrops  clinging  to  the  stiffening  blades 
of  grass,  half  revealing  strange  mysterious  forms, 
dimly  unveiling  misty  distances,  and  shedding  a 
peaceful  softened  lustre  over  the  whole  scene. 
The  night  was  still.  Silence  settled  down  upon 
the  earth  with  the  sinking  sun — a  silence  broken 
now  and  then  by  the  plunge  of  an  otter,  the  hoot 
of  an  owl,  the  rise  of  some  startled  wild  fowl  from 
the  sedge,  or  the  snapping  of  a  dead  stick  under 
the  light  footfall  of  some  beast  of  the  forest,  dis- 
turbed by  the  occasional  splash  of  the  steersman's 
paddle.  So,  drinking  in  the  beauties  of  the  night, 
we  drifted  quietly  on  till  the  quickening  current 
warned  us  to  concentrate  all  our  thoughts  upon 
our  own  safety.  The  moonlight  was  so  bright, 
and  objects  were  so  distinctly  visible  as  long  as 
we  were  in  still  water,  that  we  anticipated  but 
little  difficulty  in  running  the  rapids,  which  are 
not  the  least  dangerous  by  day ;  but  as  soon  as 
we  got  among  them  the  difference  between  the 
light  of  even  a  cloudy  day  and  the  clearest  night 


NEWFOUNDLAND  IN  THE  'SEVENTIES    237 

became  very  evident.  Our  canoes  were  deeply 
laden,  and  so  heavy  that  it  was  impossible  to 
check  them  in  the  strength  of  the  stream  ;  and  we 
flew  down  with  such  velocity  that  there  was  no  time 
to  pick  a  channel,  and  one  found  oneself  right  on 
top  of  some  rock  or  boiling  eddy  almost  at  the 
same  instant  that  the  eye  caught  sight  of  the 
danger.  Yet  our  progress  was  slow,  for  in  many 
places  the  river  spreads  out  over  broad  shallows, 
and  there  we  had  to  go  very  cautiously,  creeping 
along,  holding  the  canoe  back  with  the  paddles, 
grounding  now  and  then,  and  having  to  back  off 
and  seek  some  deeper  place  ;  and  it  was  long  past 
midnight  when  a  distant  welcome  roar  showed  we 
were  approaching  the  fall.  There  we  went  ashore, 
made  a  fire,  brewed  some  strong  green  tea,  rested 
for  half  an  hour,  and  then,  having  made  the  short 
"  portage,"  launched  our  canoes  again  below  the 
fall.  As  bad  luck  would  have  it,  the  tide  was  out, 
and  we  had  to  pick  our  way  over  great  flats  of 
sand  miles  in  breadth,  covered  by  only  two  or 
three  inches  of  water,  through  which  a  little  narrow 
shallow  channel  went  meandering  to  the  sea.  It 
was  tedious  work,  and  it  was  four  o'clock  in  the 
morning  when  we  got  into  deep  water,  paddled 
alongside  the  tug,  roused  up  the  crew,  tumbled  up 


238  CANADIAN   NIGHTS 

on  deck,  and  turned  into  our  bunks  below, 
thoroughly  tired  out. 

So  ended  our  hunting  trip  in  Newfoundland. 
It  was  not  very  successful ;  three  caribou  heads 
and  one  bearskin  were  all  the  trophies  we  had  to 
show.  We  could  not  congratulate  ourselves  upon 
the  amount  of  game  killed,  but  at  any  rate  we  did 
not  come  back  empty-handed,  and  we  had  seen 
something  of  the  country  and  had  enjoyed  a  very 
pleasant  month  in  the  woods. 

Newfoundland  is  not  much  visited  by  English- 
men. I  know  not  why,  for  it  is  the  nearest  and 
most  accessible  of  all  their  colonies,  and  it  offers 
a  good  field  for  exploration  and  for  sport.  The 
interior  of  a  great  part  of  the  island,  all  the  northern 
part  of  it  in  fact,  is  almost  unknown.  The  variety 
of  game  is  not  great,  there  are  no  moose  or  small 
deer,  and  bears  are,  strange  to  say,  very  scarce ; 
but  caribou  are  plentiful,  and  the  Newfoundland 
stags  are  finer  by  far  than  any  to  be  found  on  any 
portion  of  the  continent  of  North  America.  The 
caribou,  or  reindeer,  are  getting  scarce,  as  they  are 
also  in  every  other  accessible  place.  Constant 
travel  across  the  island  interferes  with  their  annual 
migration  from  north  to  south  and  from  south  to 
north.    They  are  no  longer  to  be  seen  crossing 


NEWFOUNDLAND  IN  THE  'SEVENTIES  239 

Sandy  Pond  in  vast  herds  in  the  spring  and  fall, 
but  no  doubt  they  are  still  pretty  plentiful  in 
some  remote  parts  of  the  country.  The  shores  of 
Newfoundland  are  indented  with  numerous  and 
excellent  harbours,  the  interior  is  full  of  lakes  and 
is  traversed  by  many  streams  navigable  for  canoes, 
fur  is  pretty  plentiful,  wild  fowl  and  grouse 
abundant,  and  the  creeks  and  rivers  are  full  of 
salmon  and  trout. 

A  great  portion  of  the  interior  of  the  island 
consists  of  barren,  swamp,  and  water,  but  there  are 
large  tracts  of  valuable  timber,  and  of  good  land 
suitable  in  every  way  for  farming  purposes.  The 
climate  is  very  pleasant  in  summer  and  the  fall ; 
the  winters  are  cold,  though  not  so  severe  as  on 
the  mainland,  but  they  are  protracted  far  into 
the  spring,  through  the  chilling  influence  of  the 
great  mass  of  Baffin  Bay  ice  that  comes  down 
the  coast  about  the  month  of  March.  For  that 
reason,  and  because  the  extent  of  good  land  is 
limited,  and  also  on  account  of  the  proximity  of 
Prince  Edward  Island  and  the  mainland,  where 
both  soil  and  climate  are  better  suited  to  the 
cultivation  of  crops,  Newfoundland  will  never  be 
much  of  an  agricultural  country.  It  has  great 
mineral  riches,  chiefly  consisting  of  copper,  which 


240  CANADIAN   NIGHTS 

as  yet  are  only  partially  developed,  but  the  true 
source  of  its  wealth  and  cause  of  its  prosperity  is, 
and  always  will  be,  the  sea.  There  is  a  farm  which 
needs  no  cultivation,  a  mine  which  never  "  peters 
out."  The  hardy  Newfoundland  fisherman  pur- 
sues his  calling  not  only  among  his  native  bays, 
but  also  along  the  coasts  of  the  Labrador  as  far 
north  as  the  entrance  into  Hudson  Straits  ;  and 
yet,  in  spite  of  all  his  industry  and  the  inex- 
haustible riches  of  the  sea,  he  leads  a  poor,  and 
too  often  a  miserable  life.  He  is  generally  deeply 
in  debt  to  the  nearest  storekeeper,  and  he  is  com- 
pelled to  look  on  while  others  reap  the  harvest 
drawn  from  what  he,  perhaps  not  unnaturally, 
considers  his  own  seas.  The  fishery  question  in 
Newfoundland,  and  in  fact  the  whole  state  of  the 
country,  is  in  a  peculiar  condition. 

Most  Englishmen  probably  suppose  that  New- 
foundland is  a  dependency  of  Great  Britain  ;  but 
that  idea  is  only  partially  true,  for  the  sovereign 
rights  of  the  Crown  are  recognised  only  over  a 
portion  of  the  island.  The  fishery  rights  of 
France,  as  settled  under  the  treaty  of  Utrecht  in 
171 3,  still  remain  in  force.  Under  that  treaty  the 
islands  of  St.  Pierre  and  Miguelon  were  absolutely 
secured  to  France  to  enable  her  to  pursue  the 


NEWFOUNDLAND  IN  THE  'SEVENTIES    241 

cod-fishery  of  the  great  banks,  and  she  further 
retained  certain  vaguely  defined  rights  over  that 
part  of  the  island  known  as  the  French  coast, 
namely,  the  shore  from  Cape  Ray  to  Cape  John,  a 
distance  of  about  400  miles.  The  possession  of 
the  two  islands  above  mentioned  is  of  the  greatest 
value  to  France,  and  at  the  same  time  causes  no 
practical  inconvenience  to  the  Newfoundlanders. 
It  is  true  that  a  great  industry  has  passed  from  us, 
and  that  the  fishery  on  the  great  banks  is  almost 
entirely  in  the  hands  of  the  French,  who  employ 
about  300  vessels  and  10,000  men — ^half  the 
number  of  ships  and  seamen  engaged  in  their 
Newfoundland  fishery,  in  that  branch  of  the  trade 
alone ;  but  this  is  not  owing  to  the  convenience 
offered  them  by  the  possession  of  fishing  stations 
at  St.  Pierre,  or  to  any  lack  of  industry  and  enter- 
prise on  the  part  of  our  men,  but  is  caused  by  the 
high  bounties  given  by  the  French  Government, 
which  enable  their  fishermen  to  undersell  our 
people,  and  renders  competition  on  our  part 
useless.  The  state  of  things  existing  on  the 
French  shore  is,  however,  looked  upon  as  a  real 
grievance  by  the  English  inhabitants  of  Newfound- 
land. France  claims  a  strip  of  land  half  a  mile  in 
width  along  the  whole  western  seaboard  of  the 


242  CANADIAN   NIGHTS 

island.  She  also,  practically  speaking,  owns  half 
the  interior  of  the  island.  What  is  the  exact 
nature  of  the  rights  which  she  is  entitled  to  exercise 
over  the  foreshore  has  never  yet  been  determined. 
It  was  retained  for  fishery  purposes.  The  French 
cannot  erect  permanent  buildings  of  any  kind,  but 
they  may  set  up  temporary  huts  and  drying 
stages,  and  everything  necessary  for  the  accom- 
modation of  their  men  during  the  fishing  season. 
So  much  is  clearly  understood.  But  whether  the 
French  rights  are  exclusive ;  or  whether  the 
English  may  also  make  use  of  the  shore  for  fishing 
purposes  ;  or  if  not,  then  whether  they  are  also 
precluded  from  permanently  settling  and  cultivat- 
ing land,  or  working  minerals  on  the  French  shore, 
are  doubtful  points ;  but  they  will  have  to  be 
decided  some  day,  for  the  state  of  things  which 
now  exists,  though  it  might  have  been  thought 
little  of  when  Newfoundland  was  a  mere  store- 
house for  salt,  and  a  drying-place  for  the  nets  of 
fishermen  who  paid  it  an  annual  visit,  will  become 
unbearable  as  the  island  develops  and  is  settled  up. 
It  is  not  the  fisheries  alone  that  are  concerned. 
If  you  make  a  man  absolute  master  of  the  door, 
it  is  obvious  that  he  practically  controls  the  room 
>vithin  ;    and  as  the  natural  and  only  outlet  for 


NEWFOUNDLAND  IN  THE  'SEVENTIES    243 

nearly  half  the  island  is  through  the  French  shore, 
it  is  equally  certain  that  the  wealth  in  mines, 
timber,  and  agricultural  produce  of  many  thou- 
sands of  square  miles  must  remain  undeveloped 
until  some  satisfactory  arrangement  is  arrived  at. 
Thanks  to  the  tendency  of  treaty  makers  to  scamp 
their  work,  and  to  be  content  to  accept  vague 
generalities  and  to  leave  inconvenient  details  to 
be  dealt  with  by  their  successors,  a  nice  muddle 
exists  in  Newfoundland.  The  Crown  exercises 
sovereign  right,  and  the  Colonial  Parliament 
extends  its  rule  over  a  portion  only  of  a  British 
colony.  And  now,  to  make  confusion  worse  con- 
founded, we  have  entered  into  more  vague  and 
ill-defined  engagements  with  the  United  States. 
Nobody  seems  even  to  know  whether  American 
fishermen  can  exercise  their  rights  subject  to  or 
independent  of  the  local  laws  binding  on  the 
natives  of  Newfoundland.  Still  less  can  anyone 
pretend  to  say  what  rights,  if  any,  the  United 
States  acquired  on  the  French  shore.  The  Fishery 
Convention  between  Great  Britain  and  the  United 
States  was  of  course  subject  to  the  provisions  of 
all  existing  treaties  entered  into  by  France  and 
England,  and  dealing  with  the  fisheries  of  New- 
foundland,   but   nobody   knows   what    those   pro- 


244  CANADIAN    NIGHTS 

visions  mean.  We  may  take  one  view,  France  a 
second,  Newfoundland  a  third,  and  the  Govern- 
ment of  Washington  a  fourth.  Who  is  to  say 
which  view  is  correct  ?  The  result  of  this  con- 
fusion is,  that  there  is  no  law  whatever  on  the 
French  shore.  That  country  is  inhabited  by 
refugees  from  other  parts  of  the  island,  and 
emigrants  from  Cape  Breton  or  Prince  Edward 
Island,  and  from  Nova  Scotia  and  other  portions 
of  the  mainland.  These  people,  many  of  whom 
had  urgent  private  reasons  for  thinking  a  change 
of  domicile  desirable,  have  squatted  on  the  land 
and  appropriated  it — stolen  it,  in  fact,  from  the 
Crown.  Each  family  or  cluster  of  families  forming 
a  little  settlement,  claims  the  land  about  them, 
the  valley  probably  of  the  river  on  the  banks  of 
which  they  dwell,  and  are  fully  prepared  to  uphold 
their  claim.  It  is  a  delightfully  primitive  state  of 
society.  No  writs  run  in  that  happy  land,  and 
every  man  does  that  which  seems  best  to  him  in 
his  own  eyes.  Taxes,  however,  have  been  raised, 
but  when  the  Colonial  Parliament  passed  a  Bill 
giving  two  members  to  the  district,  the  Act  was 
at  once  disallowed  by  the  Home  Government,  as 
interfering  with  the  French  rights ;  and  the 
curious  spectacle  might  have  been  seen  of  a  popu- 


NEWFOUNDLAND  IN  THE  'SEVENTIES    245 

lation  of  British  subjects  in  a  colony  enjoying  free 
Parliamentary  Government,  paying  taxes,  but 
having  no  representation  whatever.  There  are 
many  other  inconveniences  arising  from  the 
peculiar  circumstances  connected  with  the  French 
shore.  The  Government  is,  practically  speaking, 
precluded  from  making  grants  of  Crown  lands 
over  about  20,000  square  miles  of  country  ;  nobody 
cares  to  purchase  and  clear  land  or  prospect  for 
minerals ;  miUions  of  feet  of  lumber  have  been 
cut  from  off  Crown  lands  without  the  payment 
of  one  farthing,  and  the  rivers  are  persistently 
barred  and  the  salmon  fisheries  destroyed.  There 
is,  in  fact,  a  state  of  things  existing  in  Newfound- 
land which  finds  no  parallel  in  any  civihsed  country 
in  the  world,  and  which  is  unknown  in  any  other 
colony  of  Great  Britain.  In  the  midst  of  a  self- 
governing  community  a  population  exists  owning 
no  allegiance  to  anyone,  liable  to  no  laws,  practi- 
cally speaking  subject  to  no  Government  of  any 
kind.  It  is  an  anomalous  and  not  a  very  creditable 
state  of  things.  Whether  it  can  be  remedied  or 
not  is  altogether  another  matter,  but  if  possible 
something  should  be  done  for  our  own  credit  and 
for  the  sake  of  our  fellow-subjects  in  Newfoundland. 
Newfoundland    has    special    claims    upon    us,    for 


246  CANADIAN   NIGHTS 

though  sentiment  is  generally  out  of  place  in 
politics,  it  cannot  be  forgotten  that  Newfoundland 
is  England's  first-born.  That  foggy  little  island, 
although  perhaps  somewhat  of  a  rough  diamond, 
is  a  valuable  jewel,  and  is  the  first  that  was  set  in 
the  imperial  crown. 

"  There  will  be  changes,  of  course,"  said  Willie 
Whisper ;  "  there  may  be  some  now,  for  all  I 
know.  You  will  know  all  about  them,  for  you  will 
go  back  to  civilisation.  I  shall  not  know,  because 
I  shall  never  go  back — and  it  won't  matter  a  bit ! 
That  is  one  of  the  advantages  of  living  out  of  the 
world." 


DAYS    IN   THE   WOODS 

TOWARDS  August  or  September,  any  man 
who  has  once  been  in  the  woods  will 
begin  to  feel  stirring  within  him  a  restless 
craving  for  the  forest — an  intense  desire  to 
escape  from  civilisation,  a  yearning  to  kick  off 
his  boots,  and  with  them  all  the  restraints, 
social  and  material,  of  ordinary  life,  and  to 
revel  once  again  in  the  luxury  of  moccasins, 
loose  garments,  absolute  freedom  of  mind  and 
body,  and  a  complete  escape  from  all  the  petty 
moral  bondages  and  physical  bandages  of  society. 
To  a  man  who  has  once  tasted  of  the  woods,  the 
instinct  to  return  thither  is  as  strong  as  that  of 
the  salmon  to  seek  the  sea. 

Suppose  then  that  you  have  determined  upon  such 
a  return  and,  with  me,  have  arrived  at  the  last  house, 
where  Indians  and  canoes  are  waiting  for  us.  Old 
John  Williams,  the  Indian,  beaming  with  smiles, 
shakes  hands,  and  says,  "  My  soul  and  body,  sir, 
I  am  glad  to  see  you  back  again  in  New  Brunswick. 


248  CANADIAN   NIGHTS 

How  have  you  been,  sir  ?     Pretty  smart,  I  hope." 
"  Oh,  first-rate,  thank  you,  John  ;  and  how  are  you, 
and  how  did  you  get  through  the  winter,  and  how  is 
the  farm  getting  on  ?  "     "  Pretty  well,  sir.     I  killed 
a  fine  fat  cow  moose  last  December,  that  kept  me 
in    meat    most    all   winter ;     farm   is   getting   on 
splendid.     I  was  just  cutting  my  oats  when  I  got 
your  telegram,  and  dropped  the  scythe  right  there 
in  the  swarth,  and  left.     I  hear  there's  a  sight  of 
folks  going  in  the  woods  this  fall ;    more  callers 
than  moose,  I  guess."    And  so,  after  a  little  con- 
versation with  the  other  Indians,  in  the  course  of 
which  we  discover  that  though  they  have  been 
there    three    days,    they   have   never    thought    of 
patching  up  the  canoes,  and  have  left  the  baking- 
powder   or   frying-pan   or   some   equally   essential 
article  behind,  we  enter  the  settler's  house,  and 
so  to  supper  and  bed. 

The  first  day  is  not  pleasant.  The  canoes  have 
to  be  carted  ten  miles  to  the  head  of  the  stream 
we  propose  descending,  and  the  hay  wagon  wants 
mending,  or  the  oxen  have  gone  astray.  Patience 
and  perseverance,  however,  overcome  all  these 
and  similar  difficulties,  and  at  last  we  are  deposited 
on  the  margin  of  a  tiny  stream  ;  the  settler  starts 
his   patient,    stolid   oxen,    over   the   scarcely   per- 


DAYS    IN   THE   WOODS  249 

ceptible  track,  saying,  "  Well,  good  day,  gents  ;  I 
hope  you  will  make  out  all  right,"  and  we  are  left 
alone  in  the  forest. 

The  first  thing  to  be  done  is  to  make  a  little  fire, 
and  then  with  a  hot  brand  melt  the  gum  on  the 
seams  of  the  canoes  where  it  may  have  been 
cracked  by  the  jolting  of  the  wagon,  and  to  patch 
up  with  resin  and  pieces  of  cahco,  brought  for  the 
purpose,  any  holes  in  the  bark.  An  Indian  ascer- 
tains that  his  canoe  is  watertight  by  the  simple 
method  of  applying  his  lips  to  every  seam  that 
appears  leaky,  and  seeing  whether  the  air  sucks 
through.  This  ceremony  he  religiously  performs 
every  morning  before  launching  his  canoe,  and 
every  evening  when  he  takes  her  out  of  the  water. 
It  looks  as  though  he  were  embracing  her  with 
much  affection,  and  it  sounds  like  it ;  but  in 
reality  it  must  be  an  osculatory  process  more 
useful  than  agreeable,  for  a  canoe,  like  an  Indian 
squaw,  though  excellent  for  carrying  burdens, 
cannot  be  particularly  pleasant  to  kiss.  Our  canoes 
having  successfully  passed  through  this  ordeal, 
they  are  carefully  placed  upon  the  water,  brush  is 
cut  and  laid  along  the  bottom,  the  baggage  care- 
fully stowed,  and  away  we  start  at  last,  three 
canoes  with  a  white  man  in  the  bow  and  a  red 


250  CANADIAN   NIGHTS 

man  in  the  the  stern  of  each.  Civilisation,  with  all 
its  worries,  anxieties,  disappointments,  heat,  dust, 
restraint,  luxury,  and  discomfort,  is  left  behind  ; 
before  us  are  the  grand  old  woods,  the  open 
barrens,  stream,  lake,  and  river — perfect  freedom, 
lovely  cool  autumnal  weather,  three  weeks'  pro- 
visions, plenty  of  ammunition,  the  forest  and  the 
stream  to  supply  food,  and  the  fishing-rod  and 
rifle  with  which  to  procure  it. 

Down  we  go,  very  slowly  and  carefully,  wading 
half  the  time,  lifting  stones  out  of  the  way, 
tenderly  lifting  the  canoes  over  shallows,  for 
the  stream  scarcely  trickles  over  its  pebbly  bed. 
After  a  while  the  water  deepens  and  becomes 
still.  We  take  to  the  paddles  and  make  rapid 
progress. 

"  Guess  there's  a  dam  pretty  handy,"  says  John, 
and  so  it  turns  out  to  be,  for  after  a  mile  of  dead 
water  we  are  brought  up  by  a  beaver-dam,  showing 
an  almost  dry  river-bed  below  it.  Canoes  are 
drawn  up  and  the  dam  is  demolished  in  a  few 
minutes,  giving  a  couple  of  nights'  hard  labour 
to  the  industrious  families  whose  houses  we  had 
passed  a  little  way  above  the  dam.  Then  we  have 
to  wait  for  half  an  hour  to  give  the  water  a  start 
of  us,  and  then  off  again,  poling,  wading,  paddling 


DAYS    IN   THE   WOODS  251 

down  the  stream,  until  the  sinking  sun  indicates 
time  to  camp. 

In  a  few  minutes — for  all  hands  are  used  to 
the  work — canoes  are  unladen,  two  tents  pitched, 
soft  beds  of  fir-tops  spread  evenly  within  them, 
wood  cut,  and  bright  fires  burning,  more  for 
cheerfulness  than  warmth.  A  box  of  hard  bread 
is  opened,  tea  brewed,  and  ham  set  frizzling  in  the 
pan.  Tea  is  a  great  thing  in  the  woods.  Indians 
are  very  fond  of  it ;  their  plan  is  to  put  as  much 
tea  as  they  can  get  hold  of  into  a  kettle,  and  boil  it 
until  it  is  nearly  strong  enough  to  stand  a  spoon 
upright  in.  Of  this  bitter  decoction  they  drink 
enormous  quantities  for  supper,  and  immediately 
fall  fast  asleep,  having  nothing  about  them  that 
answers  to  civilised  nerves. 

Sunrise  finds  us  up ;  breakfast  is  soon  over, 
tents  are  struck,  canoes  loaded,  and  we  are  on  our 
way  down  the  deepening  stream.  It  is  a  river 
now,  with  lots  of  trout  in  the  shallows,  and  salmon 
in  the  deep  pools.  About  noon  we  turn  sharp  off 
to  the  eastward  up  a  little  brawling  brook,  forcing 
our  way  with  some  difficulty  up  its  shallow  rapids 
till  it  gets  too  dry,  and  we  are  compelled  to  go 
ashore  and  to  "  carry  "  over  to  the  lake  whither 
we  are  bound.     One  of  us  stops  behind  to  make  a 


252  CANADIAN   NIGHTS 

fire,  boil  the  kettle,  and  prepare  the  dinner,  while 
the  Indians  swing  each  a  canoe  on  to  his  shoulders 
and  start  through  the  woods.  In  three  trips 
everything  is  carried  across,  and  we  embark  again 
upon  a  lovely  lake. 

The  "  carry  "  was  not  long,  only  about  half  a 
mile,  and  there  was  a  good  blazed  trail,  so  that 
it  was  a  comparatively  easy  job  ;  but  under  the 
most  favourable  circumstances  this  -portaging^  or 
carryings  is  very  hard  work.  It  is  hard  enough  to 
have  to  lift  eighty  or  one  hundred  pounds  on  your 
back.  It  is  worse  when  you  have  to  carry  the 
burden  half  a  mile,  and  get  back  as  quickly  as  you 
can  for  another  load  ;  and  when  you  have  to  crawl 
under  fallen  limbs,  climb  over  prostrate  logs, 
balance  yourself  on  slippery  tree-trunks,  flounder 
through  bogs,  get  tangled  up  in  alder  swamps, 
force  yourself  through  branches  which  slap  you 
viciously  in  the  face,  with  a  big  load  on  your  back, 
a  hot  sun  overhead,  and  several  mosquitoes  on 
your  nose.  I  know  of  nothing  more  calculated 
to  cause  an  eruption  of  bad  language,  a  consider- 
able gain  in  animal  heat,  and  a  corresponding  loss 
of  temper.  But  it  has  to  be  done,  and  the  best 
way  is  to  take  it  coolly,  and,  if  you  cannot  do  that, 
to  take  it  as  coolly  as  you  can. 


DAYS    IN   THE   WOODS  253 

Out  on  the  lake  it  was  blowing  a  gale,  and  right 
against  us.  We  had  to  kneel  in  the  bottom  of  the 
canoes,  instead  of  sitting  on  the  thwarts,  and 
vigorously  ply  our  paddles.  The  heavily  laden 
craft  plunged  into  the  waves,  shipping  water  at 
every  jump,  and  sending  the  spray  flying  into  our 
faces.  Sometimes  we  would  make  good  way,  and 
then,  in  a  squall,  we  would  not  gain  an  inch,  and 
be  almost  driven  on  shore  ;  but  after  much  labour 
we  gained  the  shelter  of  a  projecting  point,  and 
late  in  the  evening  reached  our  destination,  and 
drew  up  our  canoes  for  the  last  time. 

While  others  make  camp,  old  John  wanders  off 
with  his  head  stooped,  and  eyes  fixed  on  the 
ground,  according  to  his  custom.  The  old  man 
always  looks  as  if  he  had  lost  something  and  was 
searching  for  it.  Indeed,  this  is  very  often  the 
case.  I  remember,  after  watching  him  one  day 
prying  and  wandering  about  an  old  lumber  camp, 
asking  him  what  on  earth  he  was  doing.  "  Oh, 
nothing,  sir,"  he  answered  ;  "I  hid  a  clay  pipe 
here,  somewhere — let  me  see,  about  thirty-five 
years  ago,  and  I  was  looking  for  it."  After  dark 
he  comes  quietly  in,  sits  down  by  the  fire  and 
lights  his  pipe,  and,  after  smoking  a  little  while, 
observes,  "  Moose   been   here,  sir,  not  long  ago. 


254  CANADIAN   NIGHTS 

I  saw  fresh  tracks,  a  cow  and  a  calf  close  handy 
just  around  that  little  point  of  woods."  Another 
silence,  and  then  he  looks  up  with  a  smile  of  the 
most  indescribable  cunning  and  satisfaction,  and 
adds,  "  I  think,  mebbe,  get  a  moose  pretty  soon 
if  we  have  a  fine  night."  "  Well,  I  hope  so,  John," 
say  I.  "  Yes,  sir,  I  see  where  he  rub  his  horn, 
sir ;  you  know  the  little  meadow  just  across  the 
hardwood  ridge  ?  why,  where  we  saw  the  big 
cariboo  track  three  years  ago.  He's  been  fighting 
the  bushes  there.  My  soul  and  body,  a  big  bull, 
sir,  great  works,  tracks  seven  inches  long."  And 
so  we  fall  to  talking  about  former  hunting  ex- 
cursions till  bedtime,  or  rather  sleepy  time,  comes, 
and  we  curl  up  in  our  blankets,  full  of  hopes  for 
the  future,  which  may  or  may  not  be  disappointed. 
Moose- calling  commences  about  the  ist  of 
September  and  ends  about  the  15th  of  October. 
A  full  moon  occurring  between  the  middle  and 
end  of  September  is  the  best  of  all  times.  The 
best  plan  in  calling  is  to  fix  upon  a  permanent 
camp  and  make  little  expeditions  of  two  or  three 
days'  duration  from  it,  returning  to  rest  and  get 
fresh  supplies.  Then  you  enjoy  the  true  luxury 
of  hunting.  Then  you  feel  really  and  thoroughly 
independent   and  free.    The   Indian   carries  your 


DAYS    IN   THE   WOODS  255 

blanket,  your  coat,  a  little  tea,  sugar,  and  bread,  a 
kettle,  and  two  tin  pannikins.  The  hunter  has 
enough  to  do  to  carry  himself,  his  rifle,  ammunition, 
a  small  axe,  hunting-knife,  and  a  pair  of  field- 
glasses.  Thus  accoutred,  clad  in  a  flannel  shirt  and 
home-spun  continuations,  moose-hide  moccasins 
on  your  feet,  your  trousers  tucked  into  woollen 
socks,  your  arms  unencumbered  with  that  useless 
article,  a  coat,  you  plunge  into  the  woods,  the  sun 
your  guide  in  clear  weather,  your  pocket-compass 
if  it  is  cloudy,  the  beasts  and  birds  and  fishes  your 
companions  ;  and  wander  through  the  woods  at 
will,  sleeping  where  the  fancy  seizes  you,  "  calling  " 
if  the  nights  are  calm,  or  still  hunting  on  a  windy 
day.  Calling  is  the  most  fascinating,  disappointing, 
exciting  of  all  sports.  You  may  be  lucky  at  once 
and  kill  your  moose  the  first  night  you  go  out, 
perhaps  at  the  very  first  call  you  make.  You  may 
be  weeks  and  weeks,  perhaps  the  whole  calling 
season,  without  getting  a  shot.  Moose- calling  is 
simple  enough  in  theory ;  in  practice  it  is  im- 
mensely difficult  of  application.  It  consists,  as  I 
explained  the  other  night,  in  imitating  the  cry  of 
the  animal  with  a  hollow  cone  made  of  birch  bark, 
and  endeavouring  by  this  means  to  call  up  a  moose 
near  enough  to  get  a  shot  at  him  by  moonlight  or 


2S6  CANADIAN    NIGHTS 

in  the  early  morning.  He  will  come  straight  up 
to  you,  within  a  few  yards — walk  right  over  you 
almost — answering,  "  speaking,"  as  the  Indians 
term  it,  as  he  comes  along,  if  nothing  happens  to 
scare  him  ;  but  that  is  a  great  if.  So  many  un- 
avoidable accidents  occur.  The  great  advantage 
of  moose-calling  is,  that  it  takes  one  out  in  the 
woods  during  the  most  beautiful  period  of  the 
whole  year — when  Nature,  tired  with  the  labour  of 
spring  and  summer,  puts  on  her  holiday  garments, 
and  rests  luxuriously  before  falling  into  the  deep 
sleep  of  winter.  The  great  heats  are  past,  though 
the  days  are  still  warm  and  sunny  ;  the  nights  are 
calm  and  peaceful,  the  mornings  cool,  the  evenings 
so  rich  in  colouring  that  they  seem  to  dye  the 
whole  woodland  with  sunset  hues,  for  the  maple, 
oak,  birch,  and  beech  trees  glow  with  a  gorgeous- 
ness  unknown  to  similar  trees  at  home.  If  the 
day  is  windy,  you  can  track  the  moose  and  cariboo, 
or  perchance  a  bear,  through  the  deep  shady 
recesses  of  the  forest.  On  a  still  day,  you  may 
steal  noiselessly  over  the  smooth  surface  of  some 
lake,  or  along  a  quiet  reach  of  still  river  water, 
fringed  with  alder,  winding  tortuously  through 
natural  meadows,  or  beneath  a  ridge  crowned  with 
birch  and  maples,  whose  feathery  branches  and 


DAYS    IN   THE   WOODS  257 

crimson  leaves  are  so  clearly  reflected  on  a  surface 
perfectly  placid  that  you  seem  to  be  gliding  over 
a  forest  of  submerged  trees.  Or  you  may  indulge 
to  perfection  in  that  most  luxurious  pastime — 
doing  nothing.  I  know  a  lovely  place  for  that, 
on  a  hunting-ground  I  used  to  frequent,  a  little 
island  of  w^oods  about  a  quarter  of  a  mile  from 
camp,  v^ith  a  tall  pine-tree  in  the  middle,  which 
was  kind  enough  to  arrange  its  branches  in  such 
a  way  that  it  was  very  easy  to  chmb.  Thither  I 
would  go  on  lazy  days,  when  tired  with  hunting, 
with  my  gun  and  a  book,  and,  leaning  against  its 
friendly  trunk,  read  till  I  was  tired  of  literature, 
and  then  climb  up  in  the  breezy  branches  and  look 
out  far  and  wide  over  the  barrens  on  either  side. 
Many  a  cariboo  have  I  seen  from  thence,  and  shot 
him  after  an  exciting  stalk  out  on  the  plain. 

Let  us  imagine  a  party  of  three  men  to  burst 
out  of  the  thick  woods  on  to  a  little  open  space, 
or  barren,  hot  and  tired,  about  four  o'clock  on  a 
fine  October  day.  Before  them  lies  a  still  deep 
reach  of  a  little  river,  fringed  on  the  near  side 
with  brown  alders  ;  on  the  opposite  side  lies  a 
piled-up  ragged  heap  of  loose  grey  granite  blocks, 
with  one  solitary  dead  pine-tree,  stretching  out  its 
gaunt,  bare,  shrivelled  limbs  against  the  clear  sky. 


2S8  CANADIAN   NIGHTS 

Just  beyond  is  a  little  clump  of  pines,  and  all 
around  a  grey  meadow,  quite  open  for  some  fifty 
yards  or  so,  then  dotted  with  occasional  unhappy- 
looking   firs,   sad   and   forlorn,   with   long   tresses 
of  grey  moss  hanging  from  their  stunted  limbs. 
The  trees  grow  closer  and  closer  together,   and 
become    more    vigorous    in    appearance    till    they 
merge    into    the    unbroken    forest    beyond.     Sup- 
posing that  I  formed  one  of  the  party,  I  should 
immediately  take  measures  to  make  myself  com- 
fortable for  the  night,  for  I   am  of  a  luxurious 
habit.     I  should  set  one  Indian,  say  John  Williams, 
to  look  for  water,  which  he  would  find  by  scooping 
a  hole  in  the  moss  with  his  hands,  into  which  cavity 
a  black  and  muddy  liquid  would  presently  flow, 
not  inviting  to  look  at,  but  in  an  hour's  time  it 
will  have   settled  clear  enough  to    drink — in    the 
dark.     I  and  the  other  Indian,  say  Noel  Glode, 
would  turn  to  and  make  camp.     That  is  easily  done 
when  you  know  how — so  is  making  a  watch.     You 
clear  away  a  space  beneath  some  tree,  making  it 
nice  and  level,  and  set  up  a  shelter  on  whichever 
side   you   apprehend   the   wind   will   come   from. 
You  stick  some  poles  or  young  fir-trees  into  the 
ground,  prop  them  up  with  other  trees,  lash  a  pole 
horizontally  along  them,  with  a  bit  of  string  if  you 


DAYS    IN   THE   WOODS  259 

have  it,  or  the  flexible  root  of  a  fir  if  you  have  not. 
Cut  down  a  lot  of  pine  branches,  and  thatch  the 
framework  with  them  till  you  have  formed  a  little 
lean-to,  which  will  keep  off  a  good  deal  of  vdnd  and 
all  the  dew.  Then  you  strew  the  ground  thickly 
with  fir-tops  or  bracken,  gather  a  lot  of  dry  wood 
in  case  you  want  to  make  a  fire,  and  all  is  ready  for 
the  night. 

In  a  scene  very  like  that,  many  a  year  ago  now, 
I  spent  the  last  two  nights  of  the  calling  season. 
It  was  nearly  sundown  before  our  work  was 
over,  and,  leaving  Noel  to  finish  camp,  I  sent 
John  to  a  tree-top  to  look  out,  and  sat  down  myself 
on  a  rock  at  a  little  distance  to  smoke  the  calumet 
of  peace.  These  "  barrens  "  are  very  melancholy 
at  the  decline  of  day,  intensely  sad,  yet  in  their 
own  way  beautiful,  full  of  delicate  colouring.  The 
grey,  dead,  tufted  grass  lies  matted  by  the  margin 
of  the  stream,  over  which  brown  alders  droop, 
looking  at  their  own  images  in  the  water,  perfectly 
still,  save  when  some  otter,  beaver,  or  musk-rat 
plunges  sullenly  in  and  disturbs  it  for  a  moment. 
The  ground,  carpeted  with  cariboo  moss,  white  as 
ivory  but  with  purple  roots,  is  smooth,  save  for 
a  few  detached  rugged  masses  of  granite  covered 
with  grey  or  black  Uchens.     An  occasional  dwarfed 


26o  CANADIAN   NIGHTS 

pine,  encumbered  with  hanging  festoons  of  moss, 
strives  to  grow  in  the  wet  soil ;  and  on  drier  spots, 
two  or  three  tall,  naked,  dead  firs,  that  have  been 
burned  in  some  bygone  fire,  look  pale,  like  ghosts 
of  trees  in  the  deepening  twilight. 

Beyond  all,  the  forest  rises,  gloomy,  black, 
mysterious.  Nature  looks  sad,  worn-out,  dying ; 
as  though  lamenting  the  ancient  days  and  the 
inevitable  approach  of  the  white  man's  axe.  Well 
in  harmony  with  her  melancholy  mood  are  the 
birds  and  beasts  that  roam  those  solitudes,  and 
haunt  the  woods  and  streams.  The  hooting  owl, 
the  loon  or  great  northern  diver,  that  startles  the 
night  with  its  unearthly  scream,  are  weird  uncanny 
creatures ;  the  cariboo  or  reindeer,  which  was 
contemporary  with  many  extinct  animals  on  this 
globe — mammoths,  cave  bears,  and  others — and 
which  has  seen  curious  sights  among  aboriginal 
men,  has  a  strange  look  as  if  belonging  to  some 
older  world  and  some  other  time,  with  his  fantastic 
antlers  and  great  white  mane  ;  and  so,  too,  has 
the  huge  ungainly  moose,  that  shares  with  him 
the  forest  and  the  swamps. 

I  had  not,  however,  much  time  to  indulge  in 
reverie,  for  scarcely  had  I  sat  down  before  I  heard 
old  John  call  gently  like  a  moose  to  attract  my 


DAYS   IN   THE   WOODS  261 

attention.  Now  it  must  be  borne  in  mind  that 
when  hunting  you  never  call  to  anyone  like  a 
human  being,  for  to  do  so  might  scare  away  game  ; 
but  you  grunt  like  a  moose,  or,  if  you  prefer  it, 
hoot  like  an  owl,  or  make  any  other  sound  emitted 
by  one  of  the  brute  creation.  I  crept  up  quickly, 
and  in  obedience  to  John's  whisper  gave  him  the 
moose-caller,  and,  following  the  direction  of  his 
eyes,  saw  a  small  bull  moose  slowly  crossing  the 
barren  some  four  or  five  hundred  yards  to  our 
left.  At  the  first  sound  from  John's  lips,  the 
moose  stopped  dead  short,  and  looked  round, 
then  moved  a  few  steps  towards  us  and  stopped 
again.  We  watched  him  for  some  time.  He  was 
evidently  timid,  and  it  seemed  doubtful  whether 
he  would  come  up  ;  and,  as  it  was  growing  dark, 
Noel  and  I  started  to  try  and  steal  round  the 
edge  of  the  wood  in  order  to  cut  him  off  before 
he  could  get  into  the  timber  and  cross  our  tracks. 
We  had  not  gone  a  hundred  yards  before  we  heard 
another  bull  coming  up  from  a  different  direction 
through  the  forest,  answering  John's  call.  We 
could  tell  by  the  sound  that  he  was  a  large  one, 
and  that  he  was  coming  up  rapidly.  The  small 
bull  heard  him  also,  and  stopped.  We  were  now, 
of  a  truth,  in  a  dilemma.    There  was  a  moose  in 


262  CANADIAN   NIGHTS 

sight  of  us,  but  it  was  ten  to  one  that  he  would 
smell  our  tracks  and  get  scared  before  we  could 
reach  him.  There  was  a  larger  moose  coming 
through  the  woods,  but  where  he  would  emerge 
it  was  impossible  to  say ;  and,  to  make  matters 
worse,  it  was  rapidly  getting  dark.  The  difficulty 
was  soon  settled,  for  the  smaller  moose  moved 
on  again  towards  the  woods,  crossed  our  track, 
snuffed  us,  and  started  off  across  the  barren  at  a 
trot ;  so  we  had  to  turn  our  attention  to  the 
larger  one.  He  came  on  boldly ;  we  could  hear 
him  call  two  or  three  times  in  succession,  and  then 
stop  dead  silent  for  a  few  minutes  to  listen,  and 
then  on  again,  speaking.  We  planted  ourselves 
right  in  his  way,  just  on  the  edge  of  the  woods, 
and,  crouching  close  to  the  ground,  waited  for  him. 
Presently  we  heard  his  hoarse  voice  close  to  us, 
and  the  crackling  of  the  bushes  as  he  passed  through 
them ;  then  silence  fell  again,  and  we  heard  no- 
thing but  the  thumping  of  our  hearts  ;  another 
advance,  and  he  stopped  once  more,  within  appa- 
rently about  fifty  yards  of  us.  After  a  long,  almost 
insupportable  pause,  he  came  on  again  ;  we  could 
hear  his  footsteps,  we  could  hear  the  grass  rustling, 
we  could  hear  him  breathing,  we  could  see  the 
bushes  shaking,  but  we  could  not  make  out  even 


DAYS    IN   THE   WOODS  263 

the  faintest  outline  of  him  in  the  dark.  Again  he 
stopped,  and  our  hearts  seemed  to  stand  still  also 
with  expectation  ;  another  step  must  have  brought 
him  out  almost  within  reach  of  me,  when  suddenly 
there  was  a  tremendous  crash  !  He  had  smelt  us, 
and  was  off  with  a  cracking  of  dead  limbs,  rattling 
of  horns,  smashing  of  branches,  which  made  the 
woods  resound  again.  Disappointed  we  were,  but 
not  unhappy,  for  the  first  duty  of  the  hunter  is 
to  drill  himself  into  that  pecuhar  frame  of  mind 
which  enables  a  man  to  exult  when  he  is  success- 
ful, and  to  accept  ill-luck  and  defeat  without 
giving  way  to  despondency. 

It  was  by  this  time  pitch  dark,  and  there  was  no 
use  therefore  in  calling  any  more.  So  in  a  few 
minutes  we  were  seated  round  a  bright  cheerful 
little  fire ;  the  kettle  was  boiled,  and  we  consoled 
ourselves  with  what  story-books  call  "  a  frugal 
meal "  of  bread  and  tea,  and  then  reclining  on 
our  beds  of  bracken,  with  our  backs  to  the  fire, 
smoked  and  chatted  till  sleep  began  to  weigh  our 
eyelids  down.  I  have  observed  that  in  most 
accounts  of  travel  and  hunting  adventure  people 
are  represented  as  lying  with  their  feet  to  the 
fire.  That  is  a  great  blunder.  Always  keep  your 
shoulders  and  back  warm,  and  you  will  be  warm 


264  CANADIAN   NIGHTS 

all  over.  If  there  are  a  number  of  people  round 
one  fire,  and  it  is  necessary  to  lie  stretched  out 
like  the  spokes  of  a  wheel,  with  the  fire  representing 
the  axle,  it  is  advisable,  no  doubt,  to  lie  with  your 
head  outwards,  for  it  is  better  to  toast  your  heels 
than  to  roast  your  head ;  but  if  there  is  room  to 
lie  lengthways,  always  do  so,  and  keep  your  back 
to  the  fire.  Of  course  we  talked  about  the  moose 
we  had  so  nearly  killed.  "  My  soul  and  body, 
sir,"  says  John,  "  never  see  such  luck  in  all  my 
life ;  most  as  bad  as  we  had  two  years  ago  when 
we  was  camped  away  down  east  by  the  head  of 
Martin's  River.  You  remember,  sir,  the  night  we 
saw  the  little  fire  in  the  woods  close  by,  when 
there  was  no  one  there  to  make  it.  Very  curious 
that  was  ;  can't  make  that  out  at  all.  What  was 
it,  do  you  think  ?  " 

"  Well,  John,"  I  said,  "  I  suppose  it  must  have 
been  a  piece  of  dead  wood  shining." 

"  Yes,  sir  ;  but  it  did  not  look  like  that ;  most 
too  red  and  flickering  for  dead  wood." 

"  Perhaps  ghosts  making  a  fire,  John,"  said  I. 

"  Yes,  sir,  mebbe ;  some  of  our  people  believes 
in  ghosts,  sir  ;  very  foolish  people,  some  Indians." 

"  Don't  you,  John  ?  " 

"  Oh  no,  sir ;    I  never  seed  no  ghosts.     I  have 


DAYS    IN   THE   WOODS  265 

seen  and  heard  some  curious  things,  though.  I 
was  hunting  once  with  two  gentlemen  near  Rocky 
River — ^you  know  the  place  well,  sir.  We  were  all 
sitting  in  the  camp ;  winter  time,  sir ;  pretty 
late,  about  bedtime.  The  gentlemen  were  drink- 
ing their  grog,  and  we  was  smoking  and  talking, 
when  we  heard  someone  walking,  coming  up  to 
the  camp.  '  Holloa  ! '  says  one  of  the  gentlemen, 
'  who  can  this  be  at  this  time  of  night  ?  '  Well, 
sir,  we  stopped  talking,  and  we  all  heard  the  man 
walk  up  to  the  door.  My  soul,  sir,  we  could  hear 
his  moccasins  crunching  on  the  hard  dry  snow  quite 
plain.  He  walked  up  to  the  door,  but  did  not 
open  it,  did  not  speak,  did  not  knock.  So,  after  a 
little,  one  of  us  looked  out — nobody  there  ;  nobody 
there  at  all,  sir.  Next  morning  there  was  not  a 
track  on  the  snow — not  a  track — and  no  snow  fell 
in  the  night.  Well,  sir,  we  stayed  there  a  fort- 
night, and  most  every  night  we  would  hear  a  man 
in  moccasins  walk  up  to  the  door  and  stop  ;  and  if 
we  looked  there  was  no  one  there,  and  he  left  no 
tracks  in  the  snow.  What  was  it,  do  you  think, 
sir  ?  " 

"  Don't  know,  John,  I  am  sure,"  I  said,  "  unless 
it  was  some  strange  effect  of  wind  in  the  trees." 

"  Well,  sir,  I  seed  a  curious  thing  once.     I  was 


266  CANADIAN   NIGHTS 

hunting  with  a  gentleman — from  the  old  country, 
I  think  he  was — my  word,  sir,  a  long  time  ago, 
mebbe  thirty  years  or  more.  My  soul  and  body, 
sir,  what  a  sight  of  moose  there  was  in  the  woods 
in  those  days  !  and  the  cariboo  run  in  great  herds 
then  ;  all  failing  now,  sir,  all  failing.  We  were 
following  cariboo,  right  fresh  tracks  in  the  snow ; 
we  were  keeping  a  sharp  look-out,  expecting  to 
view  them  every  minute,  when  I  looked  up  and 
saw  a  man  standing  right  between  us  and  where 
the  cariboo  had  gone.  He  was  not  more  than 
two  hundred  yards  off — I  could  see  him  quite 
plain.  He  had  on  a  cloth  cap  and  a  green  blanket- 
coat  with  a  belt  round  the  middle — not  a  leather 
belt  like  we  use,  sir,  but  a  woollen  one  like  what 
the  Frenchmen  uses  in  Canada.  There  was  braid 
down  the  seams  of  his  coat  and  round  the  cuffs. 
I  could  see  the  braid  quite  plain.  He  had  no  gun, 
nor  axe,  nor  nothing  in  his  hands,  but  just  stood 
there  with  his  hand  on  his  hip,  that  way,  right  in 
the  path,  doing  nothing.  '  Our  hunting  all  over, 
sir,'  I  said  to  the  gentleman.  '  We  may  as  well 
go  home.'  '  Why,  what  is  the  matter,  John  ?  ' 
says  he.  '  Why,  look  at  the  man  there  right  in 
the  track ;  he's  scared  our  cariboo,  I  guess.' 
Well,  sir,  he  was  very  mad,  the  gentleman  was. 


DAYS   IN   THE   WOODS  267 

and  was  for  turning  right  round  and  going  home  ; 
but  I  wanted  to  go  up  and  speak  to  the  man. 
He  stood  there  all  the  time — ^never  moved.  I 
kind  of  bowed,  nodded  my  head  to  him,  and  he 
kind  of  nodded  his  head,  bowed  just  the  same  way 
to  me.  Well,  I  started  to  go  up  to  him,  when  up 
rose  a  great  fat  cow  moose  between  him  and  me. 
'  Look  at  the  moose.  Captain ! '  I  said.  '  Shoot 
her  ! '  '  Good  heavens,  John  ! '  he  says,  '  if  I  do, 
I  shall  shoot  the  man  too  ! '  '  No,  no,  sir,  never 
mind,'  I  cried,  '  fire  at  the  moose.'  Well,  sir, 
he  up  with  the  gun,  fired,  and  downed  the  moose. 
She  just  ran  a  few  yards,  pitched  forward,  and  fell 
dead.  When  the  smoke  cleared  off,  the  man  was 
gone ;  could  not  see  him  nowheres.  '  My  soul 
and  body  !  what's  become  of  the  man,  Captain  ?  ' 
I  says.  *  Dunno,  John  ;  perhaps  he  is  down  too,' 
says  he.  '  Well,  sir,'  says  I,  '  you  stop  here,  and  I 
will  go  and  look ;  mebbe  he  is  dead,  mebbe  not 
quite  dead  yet.'  Well,  I  went  up  to  the  place, 
and  there  was  nothing  there — nothing  but  a  little 
pine-tree,  no  man  at  all.  I  went  all  round,  sir — 
no  tracks,  no  sign  of  a  man  anywhere  on  the  snow. 
What  was  it,  do  you  think,  sir,  we  saw  ?  " 

"  Well,  John,"  I  replied,  "  I  think  that  was  a 
curious   instance   of   refraction."     "  Oh,    mebbe," 


268  CANADIAN   NIGHTS 

says  Jolin  ;  "  guess  I  will  take  a  little  nap  now — 
moon  get  up  by  and  by ;  "  and  in  another  instant 
he  was  fast  asleep.  Indians  have  a  wonderful 
faculty  for  going  to  sleep.  They  seem  to  shut 
themselves  up  at  will,  with  a  snap  like  slamming 
down  the  lid  of  a  box  with  a  spring,  and  are  fast 
asleep  in  a  second  ;  and  there  they  will  lie,  snoring 
and  shivering  with  cold  until  you  touch  or  call 
them,  and  then  they  are  wide  awake  in  an  in- 
stant, as  if  they  pressed  some  knob  concealed  in 
their  internal  mechanism,  and  flew  suddenly  open 
again. 

I  remember  seeing  a  curious  instance  of  re- 
fraction once  myself.  We  were  paddling  home 
one  evening,  old  John  and  I,  along  a  still  deep 
reach  of  dead  water,  gliding  dreamily  over  a  surface 
literally  as  smooth  as  a  polished  mirror.  It  was 
evening,  and  the  sun  was  only  just  clear  of  the 
tree- tops  on  the  western  side.  Happening  to  look 
up,  I  saw  on  the  eastern  side  a  shadow,  a  stooping 
form,  glide  across  the  trees  about  twenty  or  thirty 
feet  from  the  ground  and  disappear.  It  looked 
very  ghost-like,  and  for  an  instant  it  startled  me. 
In  a  few  seconds  it  reappeared,  and,  the  trees 
growing  thicker  together  and  affording  a  better 
background,     I    saw    the    shadows    plainly — two 


DAYS    IN   THE   WOODS  269 

figures  in  a  canoe  gliding  along  in  the  air,  the 
shadows  of  John  and  myself,  cast  up  at  an  ob- 
tuse angle  from  the  surface  of  the  water  by  the 
almost  level  rays  of  the  setting  sun. 

The  Indians  soon  were  comfortably  sleeping, 
and  had  wandered  off  into  the  land  of  dreams  ; 
but  I,  my  nature  being  vitiated  by  many  years  of 
civilisation,  could  not  so  easily  yield  to  the  wooing 
of  the  drowsy  god.  For  some  time  I  lay  awake, 
bHnking  lazily  at  the  fire,  watching  flickering  forms 
and  fading  faces  in  the  gloving  embers,  speculat- 
ing idly  on  the  fortunes  of  the  Red  Indian  race, 
and  on  the  destinies  of  the  vast  continent  around 
me — in  memory  revisiting  many  lovely  scenes, 
and  going  over  again  in  thought  the  hunting 
adventures  and  canoeing  voyages  of  former  days. 
The  palmy  days  of  canoeing  are  past  and  gone. 
Time  was  when  fleets  of  large  birch-bark  canoes, 
capable  of  carrying  some  tons  weight,  navigated 
the  waters  of  the  St.  Lawrence,  of  the  Ottawa,  and 
of  the  great  lakes  to  the  mouths  of  different  rivers 
on  the  north  shore  of  Lake  Superior,  where  they  are 
met  by  smaller  canoes  arriving  from  the  shores  of 
the  Frozen  Ocean,  from  unnamed  lakes  and  un- 
known rivers,  from  unexplored  regions,  from 
countries    inhabited    by    wild    animals    and    fur- 


270  CANADIAN   NIGHTS 

bearing  beasts — districts  as  large  as  European 
countries  lying  unnoticed  in  the  vast  territories 
of  British  North  America. 

All  that  is  changed,  though  a  great  trade  is  still 
carried  on  by  means  of  these  primitive  but  most 
useful  and  graceful  boats.  Steamers  ply  upon 
the  lakes  and  ascend  the  rivers,  the  country  is 
being  rapidly  opened  up,  wrested  from  wild  nature, 
and  turned  into  a  habitation  fit  for  civilised  man. 
One  of  the  pleasantest  canoe  voyages  I  ever  made 
was  from  Fort  William,  at  the  mouth  of  the 
Kaministiquoya,  to  Fort  Garry,  situated  close  to 
the  junction  of  the  Assineboin  with  the  Red 
River  of  the  North,  and  near  to  the  shores  of  Lake 
Winnipeg.  That  was  but  a  few  years  ago  ;  but 
how  all  that  country  has  changed  since  then  ! 
Winnipeg  was  a  very  small  place  then,  scarcely 
knovm  to  the  outside  world.  I  remember  I  met  a 
family  in  the  steamer  on  Lake  Superior,  a  lady  and 
gentleman  and  their  children,  and  when  in  the 
course  of  the  conversation  it  came  out  that  they 
were  going  to  Winnipeg,  I  felt  almost  as  much 
astonished  as  if  they  had  told  me  they  were  on 
their  way  to  spend  the  summer  at  their  country 
residence  at  the  North  Pole.  Now  Winnipeg  has 
become  a  flourishing  town.     The  trading  post  of 


DAYS    IN   THE   WOODS  271 

Fort  Garry  is  submerged  and  overwhelmed  by  a 
mass  of  civilisation  ;  Manitoba  is  a  province,  and 
a  growing  and  prosperous  one.  One  of  the  finest, 
if  not  the  very  finest,  agricultural  districts  in  the 
world  has  been  opened  up  to  man.  It  is  a  district 
capable  of  producing  the  choicest  wheat  in  practi- 
cally limitless  quantities.  It  is  blessed  with  many 
advantages,  but  it  also  labours  under  certain  dis- 
advantages which  must  not  be  overlooked.  Three 
great  rivers  flow  into  Lake  Winnipeg — the  Red 
River,  the  Saskatchewan,  and  the  Winnipeg.  The 
latter  river  is  magnificent  so  far  as  scenery  is  con- 
cerned, but  it  is  full  of  dangerous  rapids,  and  will 
never  be  of  any  great  commercial  value  to  the 
country.  The  Red  River  is  navigable  for  steamers 
for  a  distance  of  six  hundred  miles.  One  hundred 
and  eighty-five  miles  only  of  its  course  lie  in 
British  territory ;  the  remainder  of  the  distance 
it  traverses  the  state  of  Minnesota.  The  land  it 
drains  is  rich  alluvial  prairie.  At  a  distance  of 
forty  miles  from  its  mouth  it  receives  the  waters 
of  the  Assineboin,  a  river  flowing  entirely  through 
British  territory ;  it  is  said  to  be  navigable  for 
three  hundred  miles.  The  two  Saskatchewans  rise 
in  the  Rocky  Mountains  about  thirty  miles  apart, 
and    pursue   slightly   diverging   courses,    till   they 


272  CANADIAN   NIGHTS 

become  separated  by  a  distance  of  nearly  three 
hundred  miles.  They  then  gradually  converge 
again  until  they  join  together  at  a  distance  of 
about  eight  hundred  miles  from  their  head-waters, 
and  then  after  a  united  course  of  nearly  three 
hundred  miles,  discharge  their  mingled  waters 
into  Lake  Winnipeg.  With  the  exception  of  the 
last  few  miles  of  their  course,  these  rivers  are 
navigable  for  steamers,  the  one — that  is,  the  North 
Saskatchewan — for  one  thousand,  and  the  South 
branch  for  eight  hundred  miles.  Between  them, 
and  on  each  side  of  them,  lies  the  fertile  belt,  a 
virgin  soil  of  any  depth.  No  forests  encumber 
the  land.  The  farmer  has  but  to  turn  up  the  soil 
lying  ready  waiting  for  the  seed.  It  is  a  mistake  to 
suppose  that  all  this  great  Western  country  is  good 
land  ;  that  is  nonsense.  There  is  good  and  there 
is  bad ;  but  it  is  true  that  there  is  little  bad  and 
much  good.  Hundreds  and  hundreds  of  thousands 
of  acres  of  the  best  land  in  the  world  are  lying 
there  idle,  waiting  for  man.  From  the  southern 
boundary  of  the  United  States  to  the  South 
Saskatchewan,  there  is  no  such  fertile  tract  as 
this.  It  is  like  a  huge  oasis  lying  between  the 
parched  pastures  of  the  south  and  the  frozen 
solitudes   of   the   icy  north.     Nor  is   the  wheat- 


DAYS    IN   THE   WOODS  273 

growing  country  confined  to  the  great  tract  that 
drains  into  Lake  Winnipeg.  If  anyone  will  look 
at  the  isothermal  line  upon  a  map,  he  will  find 
that  it  takes  a  tremendous  sweep  northward  a 
little  to  the  west  of  the  centre  of  the  continent, 
and  includes  the  great  Peace  River  vaUey,  a  portion 
of  the  Athabaska  district,  and  of  the  valley  of  the 
Mackenzie  River.  The  day  will  come  when  wheat 
will  be  grown  in  that  country  within  a  very  few 
degrees  of  the  Arctic  Circle.  Nature  has  been 
bountiful  to  these  north-western  provinces.  The 
warm  breezes  from  the  west  waft  them  prosperity, 
but  it  is  their  northern  position  which  proves  the 
only  drawback  to  them.  The  chief  difficulty  is  a 
difficulty  of  communication.  The  value  of  land, 
in  a  country  where  land  is  plentiful  and  cheap, 
depends  upon  the  cost  of  transporting  the  produce 
of  the  soil  to  market.  The  great  wheat-producing 
region  I  have  described  is  at  present  tapped  by  a 
line  of  railway  running  south  through  the  United 
States.  That  cannot  be  called  a  natural,  or 
altogether  a  proper  outlet.  It  is  not  worth  while 
anticipating  any  serious  difficulty  between  the 
United  States  and  the  British  Empire.  We  may 
for  practical  purposes  dismiss  that  contingency 
from   our   calculations,    as   one   most   unlikely   to 

s 


274  CANADIAN   NIGHTS 

occur.  It  is  becoming  more  and  more  improbable 
every  year  as  the  two  nations  learn  to  understand 
and  appreciate  each  other  better.  But,  at  the 
same  time,  it  is  highly  inexpedient  that  the  produce 
of  any  portion  of  the  British  Empire  should,  in 
seeking  its  natural  market  in  other  portions  of  the 
same  Empire,  be  compelled  to  pass  through  the 
territories  of  another  nation.  When  that  produce 
consists  of  the  first  necessary  of  life,  the  inex- 
pediency is  increased. 

Another  line  of  railway  has  now  been  con- 
structed for  the  carriage  of  grain  from  Manitoba 
to  the  north  shore  of  Lake  Superior,  whence  it  can 
be  transported  by  ships  or  barges  over  the  broad 
waters  of  the  great  lakes,  and  down  the  majestic 
current  of  the  St.  Lawrence  to  the  ocean.  But  on 
this  line  also  there  is  a  difficulty,  an  obstruction. 
The  waters  of  that  inland  sea,  Lake  Superior,  pour 
themselves  into  Lake  Huron  in  a  boiling,  tumul- 
tuous flood  down  the  rapid  known  as  the  Sault 
St.  Mary.  This  rapid  is  quite  impassable,  and 
ships  go  round  it  through  a  canal  which  is  in  the 
State  of  Michigan.  This  is  a  disadvantage  to  the 
route,  but  not  a  very  great  one,  for  the  canal  is 
only  a  few  miles  in  length.  A  convention,  I  be- 
lieve^   exists   between   the   Canadian   and   United 


DAYS    IN   THE   WOODS  275 

States  Governments,  regulating  the  rates  to  be 
charged  upon  it,  and,  moreover,  there  is  no 
engineering  difficulty  whatever  in  constructing  a 
canal  on  the  British  side  of  the  river.  It  is  true 
that  the  canal  is  closed  by  ice  during  the  winter 
months,  but  free  navigation  exists  during  the 
greater  part  of  the  year,  and  the  St.  Lawrence  is 
also  closed  during  the  winter.  Anyone  looking  at 
a  map  of  British  North  America  will  say  at  once, 
"  But  neither  of  these  routes  is  the  natural  geo- 
graphical road  in  and  out  of  this  country.  The 
Hudson's  Bay  Company  long  ago  discovered  and 
made  use  of  the  proper  outlet,  and  the  grain  of 
thousands  and  thousands  of  fertile  acres  will  find 
its  way  to  London  by  the  same  means,  and  over 
the  same  roads,  as  the  skins  of  wild  animals  have 
been  brought  to  that  market."  I  wish  I  could 
think  that  was  true.  Then  indeed  would  Manitoba 
and  the  great  North-West  be  the  most  favoured 
country  in  the  world — the  earthly  paradise  of  the 
agriculturist. 

Hudson's  Bay  and  the  river  flowing  into  it  from 
Lake  Winnipeg  form  the  natural  gateway  to  the 
great  North-West,  and  Lake  Winnipeg  is  the 
natural  centre  of  distribution  and  collection  for  a 
large  portion  of  that  vast  region.     But  there  is  an 


276  CANADIAN   NIGHTS 

icy  bolt  drawn  across  the  door,  barring  the  way. 
Lake  Winnipeg  is  a  huge  lake,  an  inland  sea  of 
some  three  hundred  miles  in  length  and  fifty  or 
sixty  in  breadth.  It  receives  the  drainage  of  the 
fertile  belt  through  navigable  rivers,  and  it  sends 
off  that  drainage  towards  the  North  through  a 
large  river — the  Nelson — which  pours  its  waters 
into  Hudson's  Bay.  The  Nelson  is,  in  fact,  the 
continuation  of  the  Saskatchewan.  Lake  Winnipeg 
is  in  the  very  centre  of  the  continent.  If  ocean 
steamers  could  penetrate  to  that  lake,  it  would  be 
like  despatching  a  steamer  direct  from  the  port  of 
London  to  the  grain  elevators  of  Chicago.  It 
would  be  even  better,  for  a  vessel  loading  in  Lake 
Winnipeg  could  take  in  her  grain  at  the  mouth  of 
rivers  penetrating  to  the  very  base  of  the  Rocky 
Mountains,  navigable  for  a  thousand  miles  through 
the  richest  land  of  the  continent.  Cannot  this 
magnificent  water  system  be  utilised  ?  I  fear  not. 
There  are  two  obstacles  which  I  am  afraid  will 
prove  insurmountable.  These  are,  the  navigation 
of  Hudson's  Straits,  and  the  navigation  of  the 
Nelson.  Of  Hudson's  Bay  and  Straits  we  can 
speak  with  some  confidence,  for  the  Hudson's  Bay 
Company  have  for  a  long  period  sent  two,  and 
occasionally  three,  ships  every  year  to  their  two 


DAYS    IN   THE   WOODS  277 

principal  posts  on  Hudson's  Bay — namely,  Moose 
Factory,  situated  at  the  head  of  James  Bay,  the 
most  southern  indentation  of  Hudson's  Bay,  and 
York  Factory,  which  is  placed  close  to  the  mouth 
of  the  Nelson  River. 

Hudson's  Bay  is  open  for  four  or  five  months 
in  the  year.  But  Hudson's  Straits  are  not,  and 
there  is  little  comfort  in  having  open  w^ater  inside 
in  the  Bay  wrhen  you  cannot  reach  it,  and  it  is  a 
poor  consolation  to  know  that  the  warm  ocean  is 
close  to  you  outside  when  you  cannot  get  out. 
There  are  years  in  which  the  straits  are  not  open 
for  more  than  two  or  three  weeks.  Ships  have 
occasionally  failed  to  force  a  passage  through  the 
Straits,  and  ships  have  been  detained  in  the  Bay 
all  the  summer,  unable  to  work  their  way  out. 

The  average  duration  of  open  navigation  of  the 
Straits  is  about  five  or  six  weeks  in  the  year ;  you 
cannot  depend  upon  more  than  that,  though  they 
may  be  open  for  nearly  as  many  months.  Of 
course  the  substitution  of  steam  vessels  for  sailing 
ships  would  make  considerable  difference ;  but, 
even  supposing  steamers  adapted  to  the  purpose 
to  be  used,  it  must,  I  fear,  be  conceded  that  the 
navigation  would  be  precarious,  and  the  open 
season  short.     Moreover,  the  navigation  is  difficult 


278  CANADIAN   NIGHTS 

and  peculiar  at  the  best  of  times,  and  it  is  doubtful 
whether  ordinary  steam  vessels  could  be  used, 
and  problematical  whether  a  trade  could  possibly 
be  made  to  pay,  requiring  especially  constructed 
ships,  which  would  be  idle  for  eight  or  ten  months 
of  the  year.  So  much  for  the  Straits — now  as  to 
the  rivers. 

Formerly  the  Hudson's  Bay  Company  trans- 
ported all  the  peltry — that  is,  furs  and  skins — 
collected  over  a  vast  area,  to  Lake  Winnipeg. 
Over  that  lake  it  was  taken  in  large  boats  to 
Norway  House,  at  the  head  of  the  Nelson,  and 
down  that  river  to  York  Factory  at  the  mouth  of 
it.  And  all  supplies,  all  the  necessaries  and  all  the 
luxuries  of  life,  all  that  white  men  and  Indians 
required,  were  transported  up  the  Nelson  to 
Norway  House,  thence  carried  to  various  parts 
of  the  lake,  and  then  disseminated  through  the 
land  by  boats,  canoes,  and  dog  sleighs. 

Some  time  ago  the  Company  abandoned  the 
Nelson,  adopted  Hayes  River,  and  have  used  that 
route  ever  since.  Hayes  River  is  not  an  outlet 
of  Lake  Winnipeg.  Properly  speaking,  it  is  a 
small  river  flowing  into  Hudson's  Bay  close  to  the 
mouth  of  the  Nelson.  But  the  name,  Hayes 
River,  is  generally  given  to  that  series  of  lakes 


DAYS    IN   THE   WOODS  279 

and  streams  which  constitutes  the  route  for  canoe 
and  boat  navigation  between  Norway  House  on 
Lake  Winnipeg  and  York  Factory  on  the  sea.  In 
referring  to  the  line  of  water  communication  at 
present  in  use  between  Lake  Winnipeg  and  Hudson's 
Bay,  I  shall  therefore  call  it  Hayes  River.  The 
Hudson's  Bay  Company  use  large  boats  capable 
of  carrying  ten  tons  burden  ;  so  I  assume  that 
Hayes  River  is  the  better  river  of  the  two,  and  the 
more  easily  navigated  by  vessels  of  any  size. 

Hayes  River  has  a  course  of  somewhere  about  three 
hundred  miles  in  length.  In  the  course  of  that  three 
hundred  miles  there  are  twenty  or  thirty  portages. 
That  is  to  say,  obstructions  occur  at  average  inter- 
vals of  ten  or  fifteen  miles,  so  serious  as  to  necessi- 
tate the  immense  labour  of  dragging  over  land  boats 
capable  of  carrying  ten  tons,  and  the  merchandise 
within  them.  That  does  not  sound  like  a  water- 
way that  could  be  navigated  by  steamers  of  any 
kind — as  a  matter  of  fact,  Hayes  River  is  a  mere 
boat  route.  There  remains,  then,  the  great  Nelson 
River,  the  outlet  of  Lake  Winnipeg.  The  Nelson 
or  Saskatchewan  is  a  first-class  river  in  point  of 
size  and  volume  of  water,  but  it  is  not  navigable. 
Although  the  average  depth  of  water  for  about 
ninety  miles  is  said  to  be  twenty  feet,  yet  it  is 


28o  CANADIAN   NIGHTS 

stated  that  there  is  only  ten  feet  of  water  at  the 
head  of  the  tideway ;  a  fact  which  of  course 
entirely  precludes  ocean  steamers  from  ascending 
the  river.  For  vessels  drawing  less  than  ten  feet 
it  is  navigable  for  about  a  hundred  miles  ;  but  at 
that  distance  from  the  sea  there  is  a  rapid  or  fall 
that  entirely  puts  a  stop  to  navigation,  and  renders 
it  impossible  for  vessels  of  light  draught  to  descend 
the  river  from  the  lake  to  the  sea. 

I  do  not  suppose  that  either  the  Nelson  or  Hayes 
River  has  ever  been  thoroughly  and  accurately 
surveyed,  sounded,  or  reported  on  by  engineers 
with  a  view  to  future  navigation  ;  and  so  wonderful 
is  the  way  in  which  man  wars  against  nature  by 
means  of  engineering  skill,  that  I  should  be  sorry 
to  assert  that  this  route  is  now,  and  always  will 
remain,  impracticable.  But  I  know  that  it  presents 
great,  and  I  fear  it  presents  insuperable,  difficulties. 
It  is  certain  that  the  Nelson,  a  river  which,  as  far  as 
the  volume  of  water  discharged  by  it  is  concerned, 
ought  to  be  navigable  for  large  ships,  is  rendered 
useless  and  impassable  by  obstructions  which 
must  be  of  a  serious  nature,  seeing  that  the 
Hudson's  Bay  Company  prefer  Hayes  River  to  it. 
Hayes  River  is  merely  a  boat  route,  and  not  even 
a  good  one,  for  it  contains,  as  I  have  before  stated, 


DAYS   IN   THE   WOODS  281 

twenty  or  thirty  portages  in  some  three  hundred 
miles.  The  fact,  therefore,  that  it  is  better  for 
large  boats  than  the  Nelson,  does  not  lead  one  to 
form  a  very  favourable  estimate  of  the  latter  river. 

Even  without  this  direct  communication  by  sea 
with  Europe,  Manitoba  and  the  western  fertile 
tract  must  become  one  of  the  most  prosperous 
regions  of  the  earth ;  and  I  think  it  affords  a 
better  opening  for  farming  industry  at  the  present 
time  than  any  other  district  on  the  globe.  If  this 
route  proved  practicable,  the  prosperity  of  the 
country  would  be  enormously  increased  ;  and  it 
is  to  be  sincerely  hoped  that  the  sanguine  views 
of  some  writers  on  the  subject  may  not  prove 
fallacious.  But  until  they  are  demonstrated  to  be 
correct,  it  would  be  unwise  to  attach  too  much 
importance  to  them.  Disappointed  immigrants 
form  but  a  dejected  and  heart-broken  population, 
and  the  strength  of  a  young  country  was  never 
healthily  fostered  by  delusive  hopes,  mistaken 
statements,  or  thoughtless  exaggeration. 

I  have  alluded  to  this  vast  fertile  region  only  in 
connection  with  the  advantages  it  offers  to  the 
grower  of  wheat,  but  it  must  not  on  that  account 
be  supposed  that  it  is  unfitted  in  any  way  for  the 
raising  of  stock.     On   the  contrary,   it   is   a   vast 


282  CANADIAN   NIGHTS 

natural  pasture-land — the  true  home  and  breeding 
ground  of  the  American  bison,  commonly  called 
the  buifalo.  Formerly  a  vast  herd  of  buffalo, 
numbering  many  millions,  wandered  through  the 
continent,  their  range  extending  from  as  high  as 
60°  north  down  to  the  southern  parts  of  Texas. 
In  winter  they  moved  towards  the  south,  migrating 
again  northward  with  summer-time. 

This  vast  herd  is  now  entirely  broken  up,  and 
buffalo  are  disappearing  out  of  the  land.  All  the 
Indians  on  the  plains  subsist  by  means  of  them, 
living  on  their  flesh,  and  making  houses  of  their 
skins.  Besides  the  thousands  killed  by  Indians 
for  food  and  robes,  incredible  numbers  are  slain 
every  year  by  white  hunters  for  the  hides  and 
horns.  Owing  to  this  indiscriminate  slaughter, 
and  to  the  fact  that  their  pastures  are  cut  by 
railways  and  intrusive  settlements,  the  herd  has 
become  permanently  divided  into  three.  One 
band  ranges  in  British  territory  about  the  Saskat- 
chewan, west  of  Red  River  settlement ;  the  second 
over  the  middle  western  Territories  about  the 
Platte  and  Republican  Rivers ;  while  the  third,  or 
southern  herd,  roams  through  Texas  and  the 
neighbouring  States.  As  these  the  indigenous 
cattle  of  the  country  disappear,  their  place  is  to  a 


DAYS    IN   THE   WOODS  283 

certain  extent  taken  by  the  cattle  originally  im- 
ported from  Europe.  The  shaggy-headed,  short- 
homed  bison  passes  from  the  scene,  and  with  it 
the  painted  whooping  savage,  naked  himself,  and 
on  a  naked  horse  pursuing  his  natural  prey  with 
bow  or  spear ;  and  in  their  place  come  herds 
of  long-horned,  savage-tempered,  Spanish  cattle, 
tended  and  driven  by  men  wild  to  look  at,  strange 
of  speech,  and  picturesque  in  garment,  but  white 
men  and  very  different  beings  from  the  Indian 
hunters  that  came  before  them.  Though  Texas 
may  be  called  the  home  of  the  Spanish  cattle, 
and  though  vast  unnumbered  herds  pasture  on 
its  luxuriant  grasses,  yet  States  lying  further  to 
the  north  are  more  suitable  for  cattle-breeding 
purposes.  A  mountainous  country,  affording,  as 
it  does,  shelter  in  winter  and  some  variety  of 
temperature,  is  better  adapted  for  cattle  than  the 
plains,  which  are  either  parched  by  the  summer's 
sun,  or  covered  with  the  snows  of  winter. 

On  the  great  plains  extending  west  from  Mani- 
toba to  the  Rocky  Mountains,  the  snow  does  not 
lie  so  deep  as  it  does  in  districts  within  the  same 
degrees  of  latitude,  but  further  to  the  south,  and 
consequently  that  country  is  well  adapted  by 
nature  for  stock-raising.     But  until  means  of  cheap 


284  CANADIAN   NIGHTS 

transportation  are  provided,  it  cannot  compete 
with  other  and  less  naturally  favoured  regions  ; 
it  cannot  hope  to  vie  with  Colorado,  Wyoming,  and 
the  other  States  and  Territories  that  include  the 
foot-hills  and  fertile  plains,  packs,  and  valleys 
that  lie  within  the  eastern  ranges  of  the  Rocky 
Mountains. 

So,  while  the  Indians  slept,  I  strayed  in  thought 
over  hunting-grounds  of  the  past,  and  marvelled 
at  the  changes  that  had  taken  place  and  the  greater 
changes  yet  to  come,  till  my  musings  were  inter- 
rupted by  old  John,  who  awoke,  sat  up,  shook  his 
long  hair  out  of  his  eyes,  pulled  his  old  black  clay 
pipe  out  of  his  belt,  placed  a  glowing  ember  in  the 
bowl,  and  commenced  smoking,  with  that  ex- 
pressive sound,  half  sigh,  half  suck,  that  tells  of 
perfect  satisfaction.  "  Why,  old  man,  what  is 
the  matter,"  I  said ;  "  have  you  been  dreaming  ?  " 
"  Yes,  sir,  I  dreamed  very  hard,  very  hard  indeed, 
very  good  dream  too ;  see  moose  soon,  I  know — 
big  one  too.  I  see  a  big  ship,  with  a  big  hull  all 
black,  oh  black  as  pitch.  I  had  a  job  to  get  on 
board,  but  I  did  get  on  board.  It  is  all  right, 
you'll  get  one  pretty  soon.  My  shoulders  and 
legs  ache  awful  bad  too,  sir.  I  shall  be  carrying 
a  heavy  load  of   meat   soon,   I   know."     It  is   a 


DAYS    IN    THE   WOODS  285 

curious  fact  that  the  strange  conceit  in  "  Alice 
through  the  Looking-glass,"  where  effects  are 
made  to  precede  their  causes,  and  the  Queen  cries 
before  she  has  pricked  her  finger,  is  actually  be- 
lieved in  and  recognised  as  a  law  of  nature  by  many 
people.  Indians  and  half-breeds  are  usually  very 
shy  of  mentioning  their  superstitions,  for  they 
hate  ridicule.  If  they  do  speak  of  them,  they 
aifect  to  laugh  at  them  themselves.  Time  and 
again  I  have  heard  Indians  declare  as  a  joke  that 
they  could  feel  the  muscles  of  their  backs  ache 
where  the  withy  rope  cuts  into  them  by  which 
they  carry  a  load  of  moose  meat,  and  declare  that 
it  was  a  sure  sign  that  a  moose  was  shortly  to  die. 
But  though  they  affected  to  laugh,  they  in  their 
hearts  believed  thoroughly  all  they  said. 

"  Well,  John,"  I  said,  "  I  hope  your  dream  will 
come  true  ;  but,  talking  of  dreams,  what  was  that 
story  you  began  to  tell  me  the  other  day  about 
the  buUets  ?  " 

"  Oh  yes,  sir,  that  was  a  very  curious  dream, 
that  was ;  many  gentlemen  won't  believe  that 
story,  but  it's  true  though.  I  was  hunting  with  a 
gentleman  long  ago — in  the  winter  time  it  was — 
and  as  we  left  the  camp  after  breakfast,  he  laughed, 
and  asked  me  what  kind  of  dreams  I  had  in  the 


286  CANADIAN   NIGHTS 

night.  He  wanted  to  know  whether  we  should 
have  any  luck,  you  know,  sir.  He  was  a  very 
funny  gentleman  ;  he  used  always  to  tell  the  cook 
at  night,  '  You  give  John  plenty  fat  pork  for 
supper,  make  him  dream  good.'  Well,  sir,  I  told 
him  I  had  a  very  curious  dream.  I  thought  he 
fired  both  barrels  at  a  cariboo,  and  that  I  caught 
both  the  bullets  in  my  hand  and  gave  them  to 
him.  Well,  he  laughed  at  that,  and  said  it  could 
not  be  true,  and  that  I  could  not  dream  good 
anyhow.  But  I  thought  to  myself,  we'll  see. 
So  we  hunted  all  day,  and  in  the  afternoon  came 
upon  a  large  herd  of  cariboo  out  on  a  lake.  We 
crept  up  behind  some  little  bushes  to  within  sixty 
or  eighty  yards,  and  then  I  told  the  gentleman  to 
put  on  a  fresh  cap — it  was  in  the  old  days  of 
muzzle  loaders,  you  know,  sir — and  shoot,  for  I 
could  not  get  him  any  nearer.  Well,  sir,  he  took 
a  long  aim,  and  fired.  The  cariboos  were  all  lying 
dovm  on  the  ice,  you  know,  sir,  and  they  just 
jumped  up  and  stood  all  bunched  up  together, 
looking  about  them.  '  Fire  again,  sir,'  I  said,  and 
he  took  another  steady  aim,  and  fired.  Nothing 
hit,  nothing  down,  away  the  cariboo  went,  tails  up, 
not  a  sign  of  a  wounded  one  among  them.  Every 
now  and  then  they  would  stop  and  turn  round  to 


DAYS    IN   THE   WOODS  287 

see  what  had  scared  them,  and  then  off  again  in 
a  minute.  Oh !  we  might  have  got  plenty  more 
shots,  if  we  had  had  a  rifle  like  what  you  have  now, 
sir,  but  it  took  some  time  to  load  a  rifle  in  those 
days,  especially  in  winter  time,  when  a  man  can 
scarcely  take  his  fingers  out  of  his  mits — and  so 
they  got  clean  away.  The  gentleman  was  terribly 
mad,  threw  his  rifle  down,  and  swore  he  would 
never  use  it  again.  It  seemed  to  me  the  shots 
sounded  kind  of  curious  somehow,  and  I  thought 
I  would  just  go  and  see  where  the  bullets  went  to. 
I  had  not  gone  twenty  yards,  when  I  found  the 
place  where  one  of  them  had  struck  the  snow. 
A  little  further  on  I  found  where  it  had  struck 
again,  and  then  where  it  had  struck  a  third  time 
a  little  further  on  still.  And  so  it  went  on  hopping 
in  the  snow,  the  jumps  getting  shorter  and  shorter 
each  time,  and  the  trail  circling  round  as  it  went, 
till  finally  the  track  ran  along  in  the  snow  for 
a  few  feet  and  stopped.  And  there  I  found  the 
bullet,  picked  it  up,  and  put  it  in  my  pocket.  Well, 
having  got  one,  I  thought  I  would  go  and  trail  the 
other  bullet  :  I  soon  found  where  that  had  struck. 
It  acted  just  like  the  first  one,  and  I  picked  it  up 
also.  So  I  went  back  to  the  gentleman,  and  as  he 
was  loading  the  gun,  I  said,  kind  of  indifferent  like. 


288  CANADIAN  NIGHTS 

'  Just  see  if  those  bullets  fit  your  gun,  Captain.' 
'  Yes,  John,'  he  says,  '  and  suppose  they  do,  what 
of  that  ?  '  '  Why,  Captain,'  says  I,  '  those  are 
your  bullets,  and  I  picked  them  up.  Now  what 
do  you  say  about  my  dream  ?  '  Well,  he  would 
not  believe  me  until  I  showed  him  the  marks  in 
the  snow,  and  he  found  that  the  bullets  fitted  his 
rifle  exactly,  and  then  he  had  to.  Lord,  sir,  I 
have  heard  him  tell  that  story  scores  of  times,  and 
he  would  get  quite  angry  when  people  would  not 
believe  it." 

So  we  talked  and  yarned  till  I  grew  sleepy  and 
dozed  off,  somewhat  against  my  will,  for  the  nights 
are  too  lovely  to  waste  in  sleep.  Nothing  can 
exceed  the  beauty  of  these  northern  nights,  a 
beauty  so  calm,  grand,  majestic,  almost  awful  in 
its  majesty,  that  there  exists  not  a  man,  I  believe, 
on  the  face  of  this  earth  with  a  spirit  so  dulled, 
or  a  mind  so  harassed,  that  he  could  withstand 
its  peace-giving  power.  By  day  his  troubles  may 
be  too  heavy  for  him,  but  the  night  is  more  potent 
than  any  drug,  than  any  excitement,  to  steep  the 
soul  in  forgetfulness.  You  cannot  "  bind  the 
sweet  influence  of  the  Pleiades,"  nor  resist  the 
soothing  touch  of  mother  Nature,  when  she  reveals 
herself  in  the  calm  watches  of  the  night,  and  her 


DAYS   IN   THE   WOODS  289 

presence  filters  through  all  the  worldly  coverings 
of  care,  down  to  the  naked  soul  of  man.  It  is  a 
wonderful  and  strange  experience  to  lie  out  under 
the  stars  in  the  solemn,  silent  darkness  of  the 
forest,  to  watch  the  constellations  rise  and  set, 
to  lie  there  gazing  up  through  the  branches  of 
the  grand  old  trees,  which  have  seen  another  race 
dwell  beneath  their  boughs  and  pass  away,  whose 
age  makes  the  little  fretful  life  of  man  seem  in- 
significantly small ;  gazing  up  at  planet  after 
planet,  sun  beyond  sun,  into  the  profundity  of 
space,  till  this  tiny  speck  in  the  universe,  this 
little  earth,  with  all  its  discontent  and  discord, 
its  v^angling  races,  its  murmuring  millions  of 
men,  dwindles  into  nothing,  and  the  mind  looks 
out  so  far  beyond,  that  it  falls  back  stunned 
vnth  the  vastness  of  the  vision  which  looms 
overwhelmingly  before  it. 

The  earth  sleeps.  A  silence  that  can  be  felt 
has  fallen  over  the  woods.  The  stars  begin  to 
fade.  A  softer  and  stronger  light  wells  up  and 
flows  over  the  scene  as  the  broad  moon  slowly 
floats  above  the  tree-tops,  shining  white  upon  the 
birch  trees,  throwing  into  black  shadow  the  sombre 
pines,  dimly  lighting  up  the  barren,  and  revealing 
grotesque  ghost-like  forms  of  stunted  fir  and  grey 


290  CANADIAN   NIGHTS 

rock.  The  tree  trunks  stand  out  distinct  in  the 
lessening  gloom  ;  the  dark  pine  boughs  overhead 
seem  to  stoop  caressingly  towards  you.  Amid  a 
stillness  that  is  terrifying,  man  is  not  afraid. 
Surrounded  by  a  majesty  that  is  appalling,  he 
shrinks  not,  nor  is  he  dismayed.  In  a  scene  of 
utter  loneliness  he  feels  himself  not  to  be  alone. 
A  sense  of  companionship,  a  sensation  of  satis- 
faction, creep  over  him.  He  feels  at  one  with 
Nature,  at  rest  in  her  strong  protecting  arms. 

As  soon  as  the  moon  was  high  enough  to  shed 
a  good  light,  Noel  and  I  walked  down  to  a  little 
point  of  woods  jutting  out  into  the  barren  to  call. 
Putting  the  birch-bark  caller  to  his  lips,  Noel 
imitated  the  long-drawn,  wailing  cry  of  the  moose, 
and  then  we  sat  down  wrapped  in  our  blankets, 
patiently  to  listen  and  to  wait.  No  answer,  per- 
fect stillness  prevailed.  Presently,  with  a  strange, 
rapidly  approaching  rush,  a  gang  of  wild  geese 
passed,  clanging  overhead,  their  strong  pinions 
whirring  in  the  still  air.  After  pausing  about 
half  an  hour  Noel  called  again,  and  this  time  we 
heard  a  faint  sound  that  made  our  hearts  jump. 
We  listened  intently  and  heard  it  again.  It  was 
only  an  owl  a  long  way  off  calling  to  its  mate  in 
the    woods.    After    a    while    we   heard    a    loon's 


DAYS    IN    THE    WOODS  291 

melancholy  quavering  scream  on   the  lake,   taken 

up    by   two   or   three   other   loons.     "  Something 

frightens    the    loons,"    whispers    Noel    to     me. 

"  Mebbe  moose  coming.     I  will  try  another  call ;  " 

and  again  the  cry  of  the  moose  rolled  across  the 

barren,  and  echoed  back  from  the  opposite  wood. 

"  Hark  !  "  says  Noel,  "  what's  that  ?     I  hear  him 

right   across   the  wood   there,"   and  in   truth  we 

could  just  make  out  the  faint  call  of  a  bull  moose 

miles   away.     The   sound   got   rapidly   nearer,   he 

was  coming  up  quickly,  when  we  heard  a  second 

moose  advancing   to   meet   him.     They   answered 

each  other  for  a  little  while,  and  then  they  ceased 

speaking,  and  the  forest  relapsed  into  silence,  so 

death-like  that  it  was  hard  to  believe  that  it  ever 

had  been  or  could  be  broken  by  any  living  thing. 

Nothing  more  was  heard  for  a  long  time  ;    not  a 

sound  vibrated  through  the  frosty  stillness  of  the 

air,  till  suddenly  it  was  rudely  broken  by  a  crash 

like  a   dead    tree   falling   in   the    forest,   followed 

by    a   tremendous   racket — sticks    cracking,    hoofs 

pawing    the     ground,    horns      thrashing     against 

bushes. 

There  the  moose  fought  at  intervals  for  about 

two  hours,  when  the  noise  ceased  as  suddenly  as 

it   began,   and  after   a   pause  we  heard  one  bull 

T  2 


292  CANADIAN   NIGHTS 

coming  straight  across  the  barren  to  us,  speaking 
as  he  came  along. 

The  moose  arrived  within  about  fifty  or  sixty 
yards  of  us.  We  could  dimly  see  him  in  the  dark 
shadow  of  an  island  of  trees.  In  another  second 
he  would  have  been  out  in  the  moonlight  if  we 
had  left  him  alone,  but  Noel,  in  his  anxiety  to 
bring  him  up,  called  like  a  bull,  and  the  moose, 
who  had  probably  had  enough  of  fighting  for  one 
night,  turned  right  round  and  went  back  again 
across  the  barren.  We  did  not  try  any  more 
calling,  but  made  up  our  fire  and  lay  down  till 
daylight. 

The  next  night,  or  rather  on  the  morning  after, 
we  called  up  two  moose  after  sunrise,  but  failed 
from  various  causes  in  getting  a  shot,  but  on  the 
day  succeeding  that  I  killed  a  very  large  bull. 
We  had  called  without  any  answer  all  night,  and 
were  going  home  to  the  principal  camp  about 
ten  in  the  day,  when  we  heard  a  cow  call.  It  was 
a  dead  calm,  and  the  woods  were  very  noisy,  dry 
as  tinder,  and  strewn  with  crisp,  dead  leaves,  but 
we  determined  to  try  and  creep  up  to  her.  I  will 
not  attempt  to  describe  how  we  crept  up  pretty 
near,  and  waited,  and  listened  patiently  for  hours, 
till  we  heard  her  again,  and  fixed  the  exact  spot 


DAYS    IN   THE   WOODS  293 

where  she  was  :  how  we  crept  and  crawled,  inch 
by  inch,  through  bushes,  and  over  dry  leaves  and 
brittle  sticks,  till  we  got  within  sight  and  easy 
shot  of  three  moose — a  big  bull,  a  cow,  and  a 
two-year-old.  Suffice  it  to  say,  that  the  big  bull 
died  ;  he  paid  the  penalty.  Female  loquacity  cost 
him  his  life.  If  his  lovely  but  injudicious  com- 
panion could  have  controlled  her  feminine  dis- 
position to  talk,  that  family  of  moose  would  still 
have  been  roaming  the  woods,  happy  and  united. 

"  There  are  still  many  things  which  I  should  like 
to  have  told  you,"  said  Willie,  "  if  there  had  been 
time ;  but  by  the  smell  of  the  air  this  spell  will  have 
broken  before  morning,  and  we  shan't  have  another 
night  of  yarning.  I  should  like  to  have  given  you 
one  run  with  buffalo  on  the  plains,  and  told  you  of 
a  successful  stalk  up  in  the  Colorado  mountains 
that  brought  me  the  finest  known  specimen  of  the 
mountain  sheep,  and  showed  me  grizzlies  feeding 
on  heaps  of  locusts  just  under  the  snow  line.  I  wish 
I  could  have  described  a  mountain  lion  which  I 
once  saw  in  the  middle  of  a  warm  summer's  night 
in  Estes  Park,  when  I  was  lying  awake  in  bed,  and 
which  I  pursued  some  distance  in  the  costume 
peculiar  to  that  part  of  the  four-and-twenty  hours 


294  CANADIAN   NIGHTS 

usually  devoted  to  sleep.  I  might  have  carried 
you  with  me  to  Newfoundland,  to  stalk  cariboo 
on  the  great  barrens,  and  taken  you  on  snow-shoes 
in  the  winter  to  track  moose  upon  the  hardwood 
ridges,  when  the  forest  is  more  glorious  perhaps 
even  than  in  the  fall.  I  could  have  shown  you 
glimpses  of  primitive  life  among  the  French- 
speaking  '  habitants '  of  Lower  Quebec  and  the 
simple  Celtic,  Gaelic-speaking  population  of  eastern 
Nova  Scotia,  and  given  you  a  peep  into  lumber 
camps  and  birch-bark  wigwams,  and  talked  much 
to  you  about  Indians — that  strange  race,  which, 
even  when  it  shall  have  entirely  disappeared,  will 
have  left  an  enduring  mark  behind  it.  Civilised 
nations  have  passed  and  left  no  sign  ;  but  the 
Indian  will  be  remembered  by  two  things  at 
least — the  birch-bark  canoe,  which  no  production 
of  the  white  man  can  equal  for  strength,  lightness, 
gracefulness,  sea-going  qualities,  and  carrying 
capacity,  and  the  snow-shoe,  which  appears  to  be 
perfect  in  its  form  and,  like  a  violin,  incapable  of 
development  or  improvement.  There  are  three 
inventions  which  the  ingenuity  of  man  seems  to 
be  unable  to  improve  upon,  and  two  of  them  are 
the  works  of  savages.  They  are  the  violin,  snow- 
shoes,  and  birch-bark  canoes." 


DAYS    IN   THE   WOODS  295 

Somewhere  about  four  o'clock  in  the  morning 
after  the  last  night  I  awoke  and  found  that  Willie 
Whisper  had  made  up  the  fire,  and  was  packing 
his  few  belongings  in  his  blanket. 

"  Why,  Willie,"  said  I,  "  what  is  the  matter  ? 
WTiat  are  you  doing  ?  " 

"  What  am  I  doing !  Why,  going  to  make  a 
start  as  soon  as  I  have  made  some  tea,  and  if  you 
take  my  advice  you  will  do  the  same.  It  rained 
heavily  all  the  early  part  of  the  night  away  back. 
It  will  be  raining  here  pretty  soon.  Put  your  head 
out  and  you  will  smell  it,  and  see  the  moon  riding 
through  a  southerly  scud.  The  ice  is  not  thick. 
It  will  break  up  quickly  under  the  press  of  water 
that  is  coming  down.  There's  going  to  be  a 
strong  thaw  but  a  very  short  one,  and  the  next 
frost  means  a  freeze  up  for  the  winter.  I  have  to 
hustle  to  get  out  to  settlements  for  a  few  neces- 
saries, and  back  into  the  woods  before  all  the 
waterways  are  closed,  and  you  have  no  time  to 
lose  if  you  want  to  make  your  vnnter  camp  by 


canoe." 


Willie  was  right.  As  he  finished  speaking  a  few 
drops  of  rain  fell  spluttering  into  the  fire,  and  I 
found  heavy  masses  of  low  flying  clouds  from  the 
South- West    drifting    across    the    setting    moon. 


296  CANADIAN   NIGHTS 

The  air  was  soft  and  warm,  redolent  of  resinous 
pines  and  clean  wet  earth.  There  was  no  doubt 
about  the  thaw.  Going  down  to  the  water's  edge 
I  found  a  rise  of  several  feet,  a  strong  current 
rushing  out,  and  the  thin  ice  all  breaking  away. 
So  I  roused  up  Noel,  made  up  our  packs,  brewed 
some  strong  tea,  said  good-bye  to  the  newcomers, 
who  seemed  disinclined  to  exchange  shelter  for 
torrential  rain,  and  plunged  into  the  dawn  to 
launch  our  dug-out  and  pole  up  against  the  stream. 
Willie  Whisper  came  down  with  us  to  the  water's 
edge.  "  God  be  with  you,"  he  said,  as  he  wrung 
my  hand,  "  surely  we  shall  meet  again  sometime, 
somewhere.  Perhaps  in  the  flesh — I  don't  know. 
I  think  not,  but  who  can  tell  ?     So  long  !  " 

I  never  did  meet  him  again,  though  after  some 
years  I  did  once  again  taste  the  freedom  of  my 
well-beloved  woods.  I  heard  that  he  had  died 
as  he  had  lived,  in  the  deep  woods,  alone  among 
the  trees. 


NOTE 

The  substance  of  these  Sketches  first  appeared  in  the  pages 
of  the  "  Nineteenth  Century*'  to  the  Editor  of  which 
the  Author  is  indebted  for  permission  to  republish  them. 


Printed  by  Ballantyne,  Hanson  6*  Co. 
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